


Going Up a Creek Without a Paddle

by becuzmdsaidineededpersonality



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: F/M, Old Friends, Rating for game rating, Regret, reunited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24156292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becuzmdsaidineededpersonality/pseuds/becuzmdsaidineededpersonality
Summary: Things couldn't possibly get worse could they?
Relationships: Amanda De Santa/Michael De Santa, Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

There was a time in every hero's journey when the hero begins to realize that they screwed up.

Maybe it was something they said to a person they cared about. 

Maybe it was relapsing into an old unhealthy habit. 

Maybe it was almost accidentally getting someone close to them killed. 

In a Vinewood movie, it was at this point the hero would walk through the rain without an umbrella as sad somber violin music played in the background or the hero would find an old box of family photos in the attic as emotional acoustics set the scene of remorse and loneliness or perhaps even seeing one's family having a good time in a restaurant without the hero present.

It was at this point the hero would change and make it up to everyone.

It was at this point the hero would change forever. 

It was at this point the hero was at the lowest point in the hero's journey. 

Michael was no hero. He knew this. He had lied and hurt people. He had acted like an asshole. And that was just this week. 

Michael stared at the ceiling as he had for the past half hour in nothing but his wife beater and striped boxers. He wasn't listening to music although if he were in a movie right now the sober guitar would be playing the haunting chords of These Are the Days of Our Lives by Queen. Michael sighed deeply and began the weekly procedure Dr. Freilander had inquired him to do of listing off where he had misstepped. It was a cycle of rinse and repeat which he clearly never learned to get out of. 

Well, first there was pointing a gun at the back of a kid just doing his job, forcing him to drive through a window of a crook dealer, then beating said dealer all while being called a racist and losing his son's car. Okay, that wasn't really his fault though. Sure he had overreacted but Jimmy shouldn't have been an ass and bought a car he couldn't afford in the first place. Had he learned nothing from Michael's poor financial choices? 

Great. That was his standard. Fucking terrible awful fucking human being he was. 

Then he had roped said kid into getting his yacht back after his idiot son had stolen it to sell to get money for said car Michael had damaged by forcing a street hustler to drive through the window. Oh, and Franklin and his friend had also lost their jobs because of him. As if he didn't need more of this shit on his consciousness. 

But he had saved his son. And not strangled him in the process. Not that he ever would. Michael's father would have but-

Ah shit. He was doing exactly what Amanda had always accused him of. A drunk abusive asshole was not who he should be measuring his standards of good parenting on. Most normal people didn't think of hurting their children. But he had to give himself some points in the karma basket for saving his son's life right? Or at least that was what Amanda's stupid yoga teachings had taught her. 

The worst part was is that he had killed and shot people.

In front of his son.

Something he swore he would never do. 

Fuck.

His own child thought he was a monster. And why shouldn't he? Fuck. 

And then there was the tennis coach incident. 

Was Michael faithful? No. Not by a long shot. In fact, he was balls deep in a stripper when his wife had found him when he first broke his vows. If he was going to be a lying asshole the least he could do was put in some effort to hide the fact that he was cheating. And then there were all the other strippers and prostitutes he had had over the years. 

But that was back in North Yankton. 

And the emotions of anger and sadness kept getting stronger. Fuck. If he was going to take a guilt trip down memory lane he might as well go the whole fucking route and not just take the short cut corners of this fucking week of sin only God could forgive at this point. 

Tennis coach. Stay on topic. Keep the story straight. 

Amanda was fucking with the tennis coach and possibly that yoga fuck Fabien as well. But Michael didn't say anything. He had been a terrible husband and an even worse father who had cheated plenty back in North Yankton. If Amanda wanted to get back at him then, by all means, he wasn't going to let his pride get bruised. 

But then she had gone and done it in their marriage bed. Once again the woman had no class. At least he had the decency to leave his prostitutes in hotel rooms and his strippers at the strip club. He never had brought them home. Out of some twisted sense of respect for his wife. 

But when he saw that blue tennis racket on the porch and ran up to see that prick in his bed and his wife in a towel he lost his fucking cool. For the third time in 48 hours.

Then he had roped poor Franklin into yet another one of his shitshows and got him involved in a dramatic show of anger. Then getting shot at and getting Franklin to kill Madrozio's lackies while sending a few prematurely to Heaven's gates himself. And then finding out it was all for nothing because the house had not even been that tennis coach's. It was some crime boss he had never heard of before then and would never forget now.

Shit. Amanda was so fucking pissed. Even asked him if the tennis coach was dead. That was what she thought of him. A monster with blood on his hands. To be fair her assessment was not wrong. Fuck him. Fuck him to hell and back. 

Any and all attempts to go on dates after that were filled with nothing but harsh words and violent bickering. He couldn't even pretend to care effectively anymore. 

Then he had smashed Jimmy's TV and then yelled at him and told him to hit him. What in God's fresh earth was he thinking? Most good fathers who wanted to hang out with their kids would ask nicely or try and got involved in whatever their kid was currently doing. But not Michael. How many science projects, dance recitals, graduations, birthdays, pool parties and art shows had he missed because he was too far up his own ass to appreciate and treasure his children? It didn't matter. Missing one would never be repaid to his kids. 

Then he took (or more like forced) Jimmy on a bike ride at the beach only to then be told off and reminded of what a drunk fucking slob by his own kid. Then be told his daughter was out with some porno dudes.

He had rescued her. Or in his mind, he had at least. He wasn't even sure if his own judgments could be relied on anymore. 

Now with both of his children pissed off as well as his wife he might as well pay back the Mexican crazy by going back into crime and put his whole family in danger. 

To say Lester was less than thrilled to hear from him was a massive fucking understatement. But hey if he was trying to fix his marriage and relationship with his kids while also making up his sins against Franklin he might as well apologize to Lester as well because why the fuck not. 

_The neighborhood Lester lived in now was a dump to put in nicely. Stray dogs roaming the streets, trash piled sky high, every other house that should be classified as a public safety hazard on every fucking block. He had stooped low. Like really fucking low._

_Michael was greeted by camera and a dog barking noise coming from what was clearly recorded from a clip site. Good to see Lester hadn't changed one bit._

_Michael flipped the camera off with a "Fuck you Lester! You gonna let me in or what?"_

_Because you see kids when going to apologise to someone and ask them to help you flicking them off and cursing at them certainly helps. Michael mentally kicked himself._

_"Gimme a minute." Came an annoyed graveling from the other side of the door. Lester knew what really had gone down in North Yankton. Michael just knew it. He was the only one besides Dave Norton and Michael himself. Jesus his life was going off the rails faster than one of Trevor's meltdowns._

_No. Don't think about Trevor. Not now._

_The door unlocked and Michael stepped into what could only be described as the prototype of a hoarder's home. God fucking damn it. Why did Michael have to act like such an asshole all the time? This entire thing could have been prevented. Should have listened to Franklin. Stupid asshole. There he was. The man, the myth, the legend himself._

_Lester._

_"I was wondering when you would show up." Lester didn't turn around. Didn't look at him. He deserved that. And much worse._

_"I was dead."_

_"Praise be! I guess you weren't very dead."_

_Fuck. He was mad. Angry even. Michael couldn't say he blamed him._

_Finally Lester rolled away from that deathtrap of a desk all the while glaring at Michael._

_"You need my help." It was said as an appalling offended tone._

_"How did you know?" As if Michael needed to ask._

_"Cause you came here. Why else would you?" Lester grabbed his cane and stood to face Michael. The look he gave Michael was a mix of disdain, anger and some excitement. As if Michael needed more cosmic justice from the universe placed on his shoulders. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

_Well here goes nothing._

_"I haven't been a good friend for you Lester. I know that."_

_That was pathetic. Weak and pathetic. Not just pathetic. That was probably the worst fucking apology that had ever grazed his lips. And that was saying a lot considering how many half-assed apologies he had given his kids and wife over the years. Promises he could never keep because of who he was at heart. A lying murdering cheating hypocrite. Trevor had been right about him._

_What the fuck? Didn't Michael just tell his brain to stop bringing up Trevor memories at the most inconvenient times? Fuck. Couldn't even get his mind under control._

_But Lester didn't look mad. In fact, he looked somewhat happy. What the fuck?_

_"And you are going to make it up to me by doing whatever I ask."_

_Michael stood up quickly at that and watched Lester back away in fear. Jesus. Now he knew what Trevor had meant by everyone seeing you as a monster._

_"Or rather I-I mean I need something done. You need to know something so why not help each other?"_

_Lester was quite a smooth talker. Michael would give him that._

_"I gotta make some dough." Michael shouldn't have put it like that because excitement ran into Lester's eyes at that._

_"So you're back in the game?"_

_There was a pause._

_"I guess."_

_Lester's eyes lite up like a kid on Christmas morning. What a fucking mess he had gotten himself into._

_"Look Lester about what happened before-"_

_"Well I know you never mentioned my name. I know I'm not on any lists anywhere. I know you never betrayed me."_

_Betrayed. That word stung like a motherfucker._

_"As for you, you gotta figure I never told anyone. That instead of gently decomposing in North Yankton, you're angrily decomposing in Los Santos with a shrink and a wife who don't love you no more."_

_So Lester had looked in his medical records and had found Amanda's hush account. Great. He sighed deeply. One of those "fuck my life" sighs. He also rubbed his face to keep his composure as the stress and pressure bubbled up in his chest. God fucking damn it._

_"Yeah...yeah well...since you put it like that-"_

_Lester's computer beeped and Lester held up a hand to silence Michael's empty words. "Shut up a minute."_

And with that, he was roped into literally creating an attack of terrorism. In his defense, he didn't know there was a bomb that would take the fucking head off of that kid Jay Norris. But at least he and Lester were even now. That was one relationship he didn't have to worry about. He already knew the truth. As for everyone else. Well, the fun was just getting started. 

He had also ripped the remote out of Tracey's hand like a fucking maniac. Way to go, dad. 

But at least he had helped his wife get away from police after she had shoplifted. But she wouldn't have had to have done that if Michael hadn't been such an idiot and thrown all their savings on day trading. Stupid. 

By the time he got around to meeting with Lester and while he was casing the jewelry store there were some cats that needed to be let out of the bag. Because trust Dave Norton, to tell the truth, was like trusting his wife to not cheat on him. 

"Took care of everything in North Yankton my ass." Michael had mumbled to himself after Norton had promised Trevor wouldn't be a threat anymore. 

_"So you keep up with the old crew?"_

_"Well after your death slash disappearance there wasn't much holding us together."_

_Michael felt woozy as he climbed the construction stairs. If it was from the guilt or fear of heights he did not know. What he did know was that Lester deserved better. How many times had he saved Trevor and Michael's asses when they would have got arrested or shot or beaten? **Trevor.** Oh good God. _

_"Yeah. You see **him** at all? After the incident?"_

_"Um...I think I saw a ladder. Climb up it and see if you can get to the roof."_

_Way to avoid the question Lester. Michael climbed the ladder and was genuinely surprised that Lester continued to keep talking about it as he climbed._

_"I keep tabs on him for a while. Needed to know he didn't blame me."_

_Fuck. The least Michael could have done was helped Lester with that. But as his usual fucking cowardice self served impulsive nature he only thought of himself._

_"Yeah. Where'd he go?"_

_"North? South? East? West? Wherever there were liquor stores to turn over and hitchhikers to disappear."_

_Michael choked on air at that. Perhaps Norton was right. Trevor was dead._

_"Where'd they bury him?"_

_"They buried him? Not as far as I know."_

_Great. Just great. He didn't know whether to be happy with this information or upset._

They didn't talk about it anymore. Lester had lost track of Trevor anyways. He was probably dead.

He then robbed the jewelry store with the kid. He had to admit it felt good to be alive again. He even used one of his movie quotes for a guard who bitched about the bikes. Fucking pussy. 

On the bright side, things were looking up with his wife. She had even greeted him and looked happy to see him. Even promised dinner later. Not tonight though. Fucking yoga. Drinks were in order. Celebrating with someone who shared his common interests again was nice. Franklin was a good kid. Lester was moving the jewels. He could pay off the Mexican psycho and maybe even have a little spending money left over. He could set his finances and family straight again. 

Then Dave showed up and went on and on about the jewelry store job. Michael lied through his teeth but it didn't seem to help calm Dave down at all. He also kept bringing up Trevor as though the psycho was still alive. There was something going on here. And Michael didn't like being left in the dark. 

After throwing himself to the wolves of depression Michael finally stood up and realized it was past midnight. Who the fuck has a yoga class at midnight? He thought about calling Amanda but figured that would piss her off even more. He turned out the lights and fell into the cruel embrace of sleep. 

_Michael had fucked up. This was a phrase that had become more and more common in describing his life events the further one went away from his birth. But this time was different. This time his heterosexual identity was in danger. Of course, he would have a dream about his best friend like this after finding out the fucker was most likely lying in a ditch rotting somewhere where no one would uncover his corpse for the next several years._

_If Michael were to die right now his family would come to his funeral. He had a wife and kids who pretended not to like him but Michael knew deep down they would hate to see him die. Maybe out of fear, obligation or genuine affection but that connection was still there all the same. Trevor had no one. Brad had had no one. When they died no one would come to their funerals and Michael had played both of them like puppets on a string easily with that weakness. Or maybe it wasn't that. Maybe that was just the self-hatred talking. Michael never knew anymore._

_Where was he? Ah yes. The night both of them had swore never to talk about. Although there were many other nights like it. But this was their first. Fuck. "Their" first? Since when had Michael's life gone wrong so fast. Perhaps when his drunk father had planted the seed that would later become Michael in his useless whore of a mother. Yeah. Michael was doomed from the start._

_It was January. Really close to Michael's birthday. Of course, Trevor didn't know that because at the time Michael had this thing where birthdays annoyed him and having other people try and celebrate him or whatever the fuck Americans were doing for their birthdays at the time only complicated the process. And Trevor was not a normal human being so complicated for him would be a disaster for Michael. And however much Trevor whined and moaned about Michael never talking about himself Michael refused to budge on talking about himself in the way Trevor whined he should talk about himself. They could talk about his Vinewood movies he still held dear or work or girls or booze or guns but his family was off the table or what he now knew was trama based upon his many years coming in and out of therapy to convince everyone but more so himself that he could actually make a change rather than just saying the words._

_It was cold as fuck so they were sharing a bed but the space between the two of them became smaller and smaller as the night went on. Until the two were shoulder to shoulder. Michael was the one who had initiate the entire thing. Fucking Michael as per fucking usual. Stupid stupid stupid._

He was jolted out of the dream by the feeling of someone slipped under the covers beside him and the soft smell of coconut butter lotion. He unconsciously pulled her close to his half-conscious form and for once she didn't push him away but actually wrapped her soft arms around her. Even if he didn't say it enough he really did care about her. His wife was out and about before him. As "yoga waits for no one."

When Michael had finally gotten up and gone to the kitchen to make himself one of those green smoothies Amanda had forced him to start drinking as well as his concerned family doctor. Being a criminal on the run from the law while juggling family life was not exactly one's guaranteed healthy lifestyle. He had told Franklin this. Dumb kid didn't listen but then again he couldn't get his own kids to listen to him so it wasn't really Franklin's fault from that perspective. 

Then he found that weed in the fridge. "The fuck is this shit?"

"Is that yours?" Amanda said accusingly behind him. 

"Of course not." He snarked back as he threw it in her direction. They both knew whose it was. As if they needed to ask. Amanda sighed and threw the black back his way. 

"I only have myself to blame for the mess these kids are in." As she ranted she moved to put away the alcohol he had gotten out as though he always left it out. "You are either drunk or miserably staring at the clouds or you're out there doing only God knows what."

The familiar feeling of anger bubbled in Michael's chest as he turned to confront his wife. "Oh yeah. I've done horrible by you. Pulled you out of a midwestern trailer park, got you a big mansion in Rockford Hills. Hell, the only thing you got to worry about anymore is what part of your body you want to have chopped off or sucked out of you again!" Each word becoming an octive louder than before.

"Screw you, Michael!"

"Ah but you won't!"

"I was faithful up until I found you in a stripper! I would divorce your ass if I could! You are nothing but a murdering, cheating, hypocrite! Thank you Michael whatever the fuck out last name is you have ruined my serenity yet again! My yoga is fucked!"

Amanda was always bringing up how much more "spiritually in tune with the universe" she was in order to "counterbalance his karmically bad presence!" Fuck!

"Oh is that what their calling it now! You and your fucking yoga!" He was just about to add another quip before he was interrupted by the yogi fuck Fabien. 

"Did somebody say yoga?"

A sting of jealousy hit in Michael's stomach as he saw his wife's face soften as she saw Fabien standing there. "Oh hello Fabien darling."

"Nameste."

"Nameste."

Michael rolled his eyes as he turned to the fridge.

"You must be Michael. Namaste."

What Michael wanted to say is you must be the dude banging my wife but "Nama-go fuck yourself!" was too good of an opportunity to piss off everyone in the kitchen equally. 

"Michael!" Amanda scolded appalled. It was a tone that pretty much define their entire marriage. 

"You need to work on your anger brother. It's killing you." Michael couldn't disagree with that assessment.

"Tell me about it."

Then Jimmy strolled in to most likely grab his weed for that huge ass bong up in his room he didn't even bother to hide effectively. "There you are you little shit! Looking for this?"

Michael dangled it out in front of him before stealing away when Jimmy attempted to grab for it. Like dangling candy in front of a fucking baby. "Ah! No!"

"You know you're a real asshole!" That was the wrong thing. 

"The fuck did you just say to me!"

The tension in the kitchen was rising faster than a boiling pot of water. All that was left was for Tracey to walk in here and complain for the tenth time that he farther had ruined her life by stealing her away from those porno fucks. In fact, those footsteps coming in the front door was probably her right now. Perfect just what he needed. A three-way team up with the fucking yogi against him. 

"Stop it you two! You're ruining my fucking yoga!"

"Did somebody say yoga?"

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Forget his failing marriage, forget pissing off Norton, forget dragging Franklin into his shit, forget his kids hating him. This...this would be the death of him. 

Michael turned as if he needed to. No one said anything so Michael did. "Trevor?'

Trevor looked awful. Beyond that. He looked like a walking drug PSA they would air on late night tv. That whiney actor who would paint their skin and wear a bald cap to look like an inhuman monster type that had "only tried Meth once." And here one was standing in his kitchen. 

"Michael," Trevor said it as though it was a profane word. Fuck. He was also grinding his teeth and pulling his fingers into a fist. Double fuck. He was pissed although Michael would be as well if he were in his shoes. Amanda moved closer to the table and looked to Michael for help. In fact, everyone was looking at him for help. Even fucking Fabien. 

"Hey. It's good to see you, man."

Trevor, of course, saw right through that bullshit. "Hmm, I bet it is. Course I'm not the one who has been resurrected."

And getting angrier. "Ain't this grand?" And now he was sarcastic. Trevor was almost never sarcastic. That had always been Michael's thing. This was not going to end well for Michael. 

Jimmy. Where was-

  
Ah. Still behind him. Good. Michael pushed him behind him further behind him as he sensed the anger rising. "Yeah well, I got in a bit of an awkward situation." He began pushing Jimmy further back towards the stove so he would be out of the splash zone when Trevor tore Michael's limbs off. At least Tracey wasn't up yet to see this. 

Trevor moved closer and Michael could see him straining not to raise his voice. "You're telling me bro. Yeah one of those fake your death to your BEST BUDDY and then run off with the dough and live in a big mansion awkward situations."

Michael also moved closer. He wasn't about to be intimidated by this meth head who just now decided to fuck everything up. And to think things had been looking up for once. Or down. He was slipping back into old habits. "That's one way of looking at it."

Trevor moved closer. Both their fists were curled and ready to strike like a cobra stalking a mouse in the wilderness. "Yeah? Do you have any other ways of looking at it because I am all out?"

He couldn't do this. Not in front of his wife and kids. Trevor had to understand that. "It was a long time ago man. I've been in witness protection. Still am."

The look on Trevor's face went from malice to something far worse. Suprised. As usual, Michael was of no help. Amanda was right. He really was a useless piece of shit. As quickly as the surprised face was there it was gone and replaced with anger. "Great. That's great." Then his face turned into manic excitement. Oh God. Michael rolled his neck in a nervous tick. Force of habit. " I'm sorry. Where are my manners?"

Like a tiger, Trevor moved towards Amanda with Michael following closely behind redeay to pull Trevor away at any sign of murderous intent. It won't be the first time. "Amanda it is good to see you. I missed you. You used to be fatter. Nice new tits by the way. Jimmy you you used to be thinner but eh can't blame you." 

Trevor then stalked towards Fabien who had taken to making himself as small as he possibly could against the wall. "And who are you?"

"Namaste. I am Fabien." Michael almost felt sorry for him. Once so prideful and arrogant now being reduced to whatever perverted game Trevor had going on in his mind. 

Trevor looked him up and down like a piece of meat and Fabien instinctively covered his genitals at the intense sexual charged gaze. "Ah good lord."

Trevor then turned towards Michael. "Where's Tracey?"

Michael sighed. Of course, she had to be brought into this eventually. "Where's your sister Jim?"

"She's...uh....she's...trying out for TV."

Michael whipped around at that and glared at Jimmy to get more information out of him. 

"She's what?" 

Jimmy visibly swallowed hard. "Yeah she's auditioning for Fame or Shame."

"Fame or shame?" Trevor said through gritted teeth. Screw whatever conflict he had with Trevor. This was taking top priority. 

Michael moved closer to Jimmy. "The fuck are you talking about?" He glanced over at Amanda who looked just as horrified and surprised as he was. 

"You know it's that talent slash skill show. She loves it. You guys know that." 

Of course, Michael knew it but he never thought she was thinking about being on it. That was a huge difference. 

"What's her talent?"

"Dancing." Jimmy said it as though it was obvious. 

"Oh christ she's a horrible dancer."

"Michael." Amanda scolded quietly but one look and Michael knew she secretly agreed with him. 

"She might disagree with you on that." Amanda, Trevor, and Michael all simultaneously gave him a scolding look, and Jimmy seemed to shrink within himself having three judging pairs of eyes rather than just the normal two. 

"Jesus Christ. What? Now? Now? Where?" 

Jimmy closed his eyes to think. "Um...the Maze Bank Arena."

"Our little Tracey being humiliated. Come on! We go get her!" 

Okay firstly "our". And secondly "we." 

Michael laughed as he said it. "We?" 

"Yeah, we! What are you gonna stand here and argue while your daughter becomes the national laughing stock!" Trevor looked so offended over the fact Michael thought he didn't care about Tracey. Well, forgive him for thinking he was about to see his lower bowels get plastered all over the walls of the kitchen his wife had picked out. "Huh? You're worse than I thought! No let's go! Come on!" 

Michael sighed and looked to his family who was currently giving him a concerned and pity look. One of those "I am sorry this is happening and if I could I would help but I can't." Something you would give one at a funeral. To be fair Michael would be having a funeral pretty soon anyhow so the looks of concerns were appreciated. When push came to shove Michael's family did care about him. "Alright." He followed Trevor out to the car like a lamb being lead to slaughter. Is this how people in the French revolution felt? Being lead to a guitine? Well now Michael could feel for them. He felt like he was going to vomit all over the pavement. 

His nerves jumped to skyscraper levels when he saw Trevor getting in the driver's seat. This was not going to fun. At least his family was safe. For now. Who was going to protect them when Trevor killed them? Dave. Dave would. Dave had to. Dave owed him. 

When Michael finally slipped into the car he almost laughed when he saw Trevor put his seatbelt on. He then reached over to Michael and Michael squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the knife, tazer, gun or whatever the fuck else Trevor had brought for him. It wasn't in front of the kids and his wife. Instead he felt the passenger seat belt wrap around him and click into place. He opened his eyes to see Trevor pull out of the driveway at unholy speed. Michael's mouth felt dry. As though he had spent a week in Sandy Shores. What the fuck was going on? What the fuck did Trevor want?

"You know I could probably handle this myself. What say we grab a beer in a few hours? Catch up properly?" If Michael was having to atone for all his sins might as well try to make things right with Trevor. He had fucked him over after all. Some kind of explanation was the least Trevor was owed. 

Trevor's face softened at that. He looked over at Michael with an expression that was soft. Soft and Trevor did not mix. What the fuck was going on? "I'm good homie." He said it so quietly. A little sad even. 

The quiet before the storm. Michael's panic began racing. "She's my daughter. I'll handle it."

Trevor rolled his eyes. "Pfft. Judging by past behavior and the current state of your family...fuck only knows what that means." 

And the anger fell over him like a sheet of ice. "Hey! Fuck you!"

"Yeah. You're a model husband and a wonderful parent. I can just tell." Everything that came out of Trevor's mouth was calm with a hint of sadness. Jesus Christ. What the fuck was happening?

If Trevor was taking him somewhere to disembowel the least he could do was have the deceny to not act like this. "You walk into my home and tell me how to run my life? It don't work like that amigo!"

The corners of Trevor's mouth upturned at that amigo bit. Michael wasn't done. "It's nice to see you and all but you stink like piss, got blood under your nails and look like you've been up for what? A week? Who the fuck are you to tell me anything?"

Trevor's smile got wider and it was quite frankly unnerving. Then it came crashing back down to scowl. "I'm someone who knows you you fucking slipper snake! I know the second I leave you you'll just go home. We're gonna get your girl from these assholes. You're not abandoning her like you did me and Brad."

Aw fuck. Fucking Brad. 

_"We've told the news that Brad is in the state penitentiary. That way when Trevor Phillips sees it on the TV he will come and visit. When that happens we'll snatch him up."_

_"Alright, Dave. By the way, you fell back on your promise."_

_"What the fuck are you talking about?"_

_"You were supposed to bring them in alive. You only got Brad because he stepped in front of Trevor at the wrong time. You were aiming for the chest. That doesn't exactly seem like a 'brinign them in alive' move."_

_"And you forget that you turned yourself into my office. Remember that? I'm giving you and your family a chance to get away from it all rather than locking you up like I should have done."_

_"But you won't kill him? When he comes to visit?"_

_"If he resists it's out of my hands."_

"Yeah...Brad." 

Trevor looked over at him and frowned. He was doing that thing where he knew something was off and was trying to see what Michael was thinking. Michael turned towards the window to prevent him from seeing his face clearly. Did he really wear his emotions on his sleeve like that? Shit. 

"Poor motherfucker must have woken up handcuffed to a hospital gurney after that stunt of yours. He still writes to me from the joint you know?"

Wait what? How was that...what the fuck was going on?

"Really?" 

"Yeah." 

Michael looked over and really wished he hadn't. The look Trevor was sending him was one of anger and hurt. 

Michael sighed. "Okay...so how you been doing?"

Very wrong question to ask. But it gave Michael time to think about what the fuck he was going to do. 

"Oh, I'm getting by. Aside from the heartache and loneliness of course."

He sent Michael another one of those looks. Michael had about had it with the guilt-tripping. 

"Live in Los Santos?" Might as well find out if Dave lied about that too. 

"A few hours away." Fuck. 

"Okay. So where?" 

"Sandy Shores. The Alamo sea." Oh great. So two hours away. This whole time. Damn it.

"Ah. I hear it's nice there." 

"Yeah, it's fucking beautiful. I mean we ain't got the tennis courts, the golf links and all the pumped-up sluts you're used to out here but well you know. It will do."

Trevor gave him another angry look. Michael could practically hear his heart pounding in his ears. 

"Yeah. I know. I'd ask you to stay but-"

"Yeah don't worry alright? I got somewhere to crash where we work things out. With **actual** friends!" 

Oh fuck. So maybe he wasn't getting scalped alive today. 

"We got things to work out?" 

Trevor turned and gave Michael a terrifying blood-curdling grin. "Oh yes, sirree." He laughed as he said it. 

Oh yeah. Michael was fucking dead. He was fucked. 

Trevor then turned to Michael and his face soften. "So Mike. What were you doing?" 

Michael took a deep breath in. "I was making myself a juice. Broccoli, raw kale, fish oil. This recipe I got. It's packed with nutrients, fibers, vitamins and it don't taste bad. I'll send you the recipe. Anyways get this. I'm making it the blender slips, juice goes everywhere. I'm about to clean it up when I find a bag of grass big fucking bag. Jimmy's right? Okay just that moment Amanda comes in, sees me there with it-"

"I didn't ask for a blow by blow of how you lost your last ounce of masculine pride. I want to know what you've been doing for the last decade!" Trevor's eyes manuvered down to Michael's crotch as he said that. Michael put his hands in his lap and cleared his throat. 

"Easy T."

"Don't T me!"

"Hey if anyone needs kale my friend-"

"I'm beyond _kale_! Alright? It's too late for _kale_ and it's magical powers to have any effect on me!" 

Michael sighed. "Fine."

"Or talk therpy or yoga! I'm a crank, cannibal and incest kind of guy!"

Michael laughed. "Oh don't worry T! They'd skip that talk and go right to electric shock therapy on your crazy ass."

Trevor looked over and narrowed his eyes at Michael. "You too chilled out to say my name, you fat slob! You too relaxed you laid back Los Santos embarrassment? Huh? Is one letter all you can bring yourself to wrap your slothful lips around?"

This was getting old real fast. 

"Whoa dude. You do not let the fuck up!"

Trevor gripped the steering wheel tighter and began grinding his teeth. "I got ten years worth of venting to do! The let up my friend is a loooooong way off!"

"Fine! Fine! Do whatever the fuck you want!" 

"Want? Hmm. Well let's see I want to save your daughter from making a complete ass of herself!"

Yeah right. Michael wasn't buying any of that shit. 

"Oh, really man? Really? What is it? Money? A fight? What did you come looking here for?"

Trevor slammed the brakes so hard Michael almost hit his head on the dashboard. 

Then he got up close and personal. "I came here looking for YOU! And I found YOU!"

"Yes you most certainly did." Michael flicked Trevor's hand off his shirt. 

Trevor didn't start drving and just stared at Michael dead in the eyes. "I know who you are Michael Townley. You're in a new place, with some new friends, with some fruity fucking new habits but you're still my running buddy. You can't undo that."

Michael didn't like this at all. It felt like he was getting interrogated at the police station or some shit like that. "Yeah yeah yeah. Okay sure. Whatever."

"Great!" 

He then drove them into the Maze Bank Arena parking lot. He then got out and proceeded to punch a parking attendant who was screaming at them for parking in a designated area. 

"Come on!" 

Michael undid he seat belt and followed Trevor up the stairs into a hall where a bunch of freaky characters were warming up with instruments and voice coaches. No sign of his daughter though. Trevor was right. He was a shit dad. 

"Come on you dipshit. Ah, that host man he's like any other closeted TV producer. Bitter as fucking vinegar." Trevor growled. 

"Well, where the fuck are they?" 

At that time a prick with a clipboard walked up to them. "Hello, sirs may I please have your names?"

Trevor then reached out and grabbed his throat slowly backing him to the wall. "Where the fuck is Tracey Townley huh? Tracey fuck de Santa fuck!" Trevor threw the poor guy on the floor. "Screw this! Where the fuck is Lazlow!" The man pointed at shaking hands towards the adjacent doors at the front of the arena. Michael sent a look of sympathy the guy's way before practically having to jog to keep up with Trevor's angry walk. 

There were some fucking hippies out by the door shushing each other. Michael rolled his eyes and followed Trevor into the auditioning room where some guy in a tacky jean jacket had just finished. There was a row of three judges who looked like they had rather be anywhere else right now in front of an enormous Fame or Shame banner. He then watched his own daughter be paraded around like some show pony. If he wasn't fucking retired and if Tracey wasn't here Lazlow would have been dead ten minutes ago. He could tell by the head shaking Trevor was doing he was thinking the exact same thing. Michael didn't know if he should be concerned or happy they were on the same page. Either way he was glad Trevor was here this time around. Now noth of them could get yelled at rather than just him.

Wait. Glad Trevor was here? Fuck. He hadn't meant that. He was lonely. Not desperate. Not that desperate at least.

"Alright Tacey's a dancer but she also likes acting, modeling, and working with children. That's that's beautiful. You're so original like a basket full of puppies or a rainbow or a pile of puke." What was with the fucking sarcasm? Tracey's face fell at that last comment. Both Michael and Trevor's fists curled in anger in sync. 

Lazlow looked over and scowled at them. "Who are these clowns?" Trevor began practically vibrating next to him. Oh shit. Trevor hated clowns. Michael would too if he had been molested by one. He gave Trevor a gentle pat on the shoulder to put him at ease. It didn't work. 

"That's my dad and TREVOR!!!!!" Michael didn't miss how his daughter's face lite up when she saw Trevor. And the distain she showed for seeing her own father. Great. Just perfect.

"Two dads. Very San Andreas." Lazlow commented sarcastically. This guy better start praying to whatever God he believed in because Michael was going to put this guy under the concrete. 

Tracey practically skipped over to where they were while cheerfully exclaiming "Wow! What are you guys doing here?" She then drew Trevor into a side hug and Michael was taken aback at how gentle of a smile Trevor had when it happened. He looked at peace and genuinely happy. His eyes became half-lidded and he was soft in the hug. It was in such stark contrast to the anger he had for Michael not ten seconds ago. 

_Michael felt himself be shaken awake softly with a gentle "Michael. Wake up sleeping beauty." Michael peeled his eyes open and saw Trevor standing over him. Annoyed he sat up and rubbed his eyes remembering where he was. On a blanket spread out in the basement with half the toys from the baby section at Baby's R Us. He had been watching-_

_"Oh fuck. Where's Tracey? Shit! Amanda's gonna kill me!"_

_Trevor held out his arm to reveal a two-year-old dangling like a monkey and squealing with joy. "Relax man. You're old pal T took care of everything."_

_"And Jim-"_

_"Jimmy's fine. I read Amanda's instructions on the fridge, Bottle of formula before noon, and down for a nap by 12:30. He's upstairs sleeping like...well you know....a baby."_

_"Higher Uncle T! Higher!" Tracey squealed as Trevor cattered to her demands. She climbed onto this back and began playing with his greasy matted hair while Trevor smiled gently at her. He had never seen that look on Trevor's face before. It honestly was a bit unnerving._

_Trevor looked down at Michael smiling gently. "Jesus Michael. When was the last time you slept?"_

_"What are you doing here Trevor?"_

_Trevor raised an eyebrow. "You called me remember? Said Amanda was away on a spiritual retreat for the next two weeks and you needed an extra set of hands." He grinned maniacally as he outstretched his hands like a medical patient to reveal finger paint all over them._

_"I-I did?" Michael rubbed his eyes again and tried to think back to the past but all it was was blurry images and broken conversations. Had he taken drugs? Had he really not slept in a long time? He just...oh fuck some role model he was._

_"Yeah." Trevor said chuckling as Tracey toddled over to her tea set. Trevor watched her with that soft grin and hooded eyes as she ran back to him with a plastic spoon and bowel with different cartoon space princesses printed on the front. She then pretended to stir a clear liquid before handing the bowel to Trevor who gladly took it._

_"I made soup!" Tracey proclaimed loudly throwing her arms back sweetly while looking at Trevor as though he held the world. Michael had to admit he felt a tad bit jealous at the face she was making towards Trevor. Did the person who literally helped bring her into this world not get any love?_

_Trevor smiled and pretended to drink the soup softly and even made "mm delicious" noises. Michael stared in awe. This was a side of Trevor he hadn't really seen before. When Tracey was a few months old Michael practically had to shove little baby Tracey into Trevor's arms when he finally got out of his own ass and came to see him and Amanda for the first time since the wedding._

"Yeah what are you doing here?" Lazlow said as Tracey ran back in front of the camera. Michael switched his eyes back to his daughter after realizing he was staring. "Relax. Chill. Make yourself at home. We just a got a little show to do here. Okay. Three. Two. One. Alright, it's Fame or Shame for Tracey De Santa. Music!" 

"Give It to Me Baby" by Rick James came on over the speakers and what followed was.

Oh God Michael didn't even want to talk about it. 

His daughter took off a thong on national television. He was secretly begging God to have Trevor ramage and put him out of his misery. 

"Yeah shake what your daddies gave yah honey." With that Lazlow began to approach Tracey like some disgusting vulture circling the desert for its next meal. He then began griniding on her while saying "yeah I ought to stuff a twenty in this."

Trevor turned to Michael and practically screamed in his ear "You gonna fucking do something about this!" 

Michael internally sighed. It was going to be a long fucking road ahead of him that was for sure. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Alright, alright that's enough." Michael just wanted it to stop. He didn't want Trevor to be here. He didn't want his daughter to be here. He didn't want his life going in the direction and it was going there fast. But it didn't stop. Lazlow was still grinding on his daughter like some fucking inflatable sex doll, his daughter was acting like Amanda was forced to for years when Michael had met her and Trevor out of the corner of Michael's eye had picked up a chair and was slowly heading over to Lazlow like some fucking panther stalking its prey. Good God this was not going to end well. And then Michael acted on his impulses and could almost see his therapist drilling him from afar. He grabbed the arms of Lazlow and pushed him off his daughter while screaming like a psychotic maniac "Ah ho I said that's enough!" His daughter was now screaming and crying while yanking on his arm and Trevor was just standing there calmly holding a fucking chair over his head. This situation was so fucked up.

And now Lazlow was calling for security. And what did Michael have? A screaming hysterical daughter, his aging body, and fucking Trevor holding a chair. However Michael was in that headspace and when he was in that headspace fuck all reason. "What did you fucking say?" Michael screamed as his daughter was literally holding him back. Michael turned to see the buff guy about to throw hands. Lazlow was running out the door and he was about to get the shit beat out of him in front of his kid and his-what the fuck did Michael even call Trevor now? And just like fucking since always Trevor had his back and knocked the guy out with the chair while the both of them chased that sexist prick out the door.

"Go home, Tracey!" Michael shouted back before running up the stairs, out the lobby, and through the fucking glass doors. They had towed his car. Great! Before he had time to pause and ponder Trevor was yanking him to the truck that had a huge ass Fame or Shame banner on the side.

"They took our ride we take their's!" Trevor finally let go to climb the side of the truck and throw the poor truck driver while he screamed: "Not my rig!" "Get in the truck Michael!" He didn't need to be told twice. And soon they were off driving like a maniac after a little battery car. Fucking fake leftist fuck! "We're running that prick down!" Trevor growled. "Look! He went left!" Oh, God. What the fuck was Michael doing? A car honked their horn at Trevor and in response, Trevor reached out the window, flicked the person off and said sarcastically "Oh I'm so sorry!" Michael had almost forgotten he was Canadian until he said that "sorry."

Trevor sent him a judgemental pissed off look. "How could you just stand there and let your daughter be treated like that?"

Michael didn't like being called out like this especially because he had just mowed down a couple of porn stars and drug dealers a few days ago for messing with his little girl. Not so little anymore. "Hey! You raise a kid in this town you get used to stunts!"

"It's poor parenting!"

"Yeah! Thanks for the fucking feedback! It means a lot coming from you!"

"No one's getting in the way of this big rig! We are running this dickbag down! Fucking Lazlow! I knew he was an asshole!" They weaved in and out of traffic hitting poles and cars. People were screaming and yelling and Michael kept nervously glancing over at Trevor but he didn't seem to notice the destruction he was leaving in his wake. He only had his eyes on the prize.

Fucking Lazlow. Then the image of Lazlow grinding on his sweet baby girl slapped into his memory like a wet newspaper on a window panel. 

"Just push him off the fucking road! It's only a battery car! Come on!"

Trevor rolled his eyes and practically snarled at Michael. "This ain't exactly a racer."

No, it fucking wasn't. Michael sighed heavily and sarcastically as he crossed his arms and laid back against the seat. He could feel Trevor's laser eyes upon him. 

"You got to go left!"

Trevor didn't seem to appreciate the nagging but did as he was told. Then the coward went to go and hide in the train tracks. 

Michael chuckled. "Ah the little guy's gone onto the tracks." 

Trevor looked murderous. Jesus Christ. 

"Look. We can have a little fun with this guy but let's try not to kill this prick alright?" Emphasis on the try part. Michael knew how Trevor could get especially with the drugs he was on. 

"When we crush his little toy car who knows what will happen to him!" Great. More blood on Michael's already stained hands. Fucking fantastic!

Then Lazlow was off the train tracks heading towards the overpass. "He took a left." 

Trevor shot him another annoyed look but it wasn't as pissed off of the last ones. Good. Michael could work with this. 

"I knew this city would be full of douchebags." Trevor looked back at him as though he was one of em. 

Michael shook his head and made another double-edged comment "Can we speed this thing up? Huh?"

"Maybe by throwing your fat carcass over the side!" Trevor raised his eyebrow and Michael shut his mouth. Trevor seemed satisfied and turned back to the road. 

"Right! Right here" Michael said as he waved his arms towards the turning car. Trevor smirked at him. This felt like old times. 

_"Okay. Looks like the cops are gone. Fuck me!" Michael finally stopped the car in the darkened woods and flipped the lights off. He left the engine running in case they had to bolt again._

_"Nah. Turn it off. Rest of the way on foot." Trevor was already getting out of the car with his bag and Michael did the same._

_Then the pain kicked in. His right side. Fuck. He had taken a hit as they were dashing out of the convience store. Lester hadn't mentioned a gun but then again this was Kentucky._

_They should have hired a getaway driver. He should have listened to Lester. Michael mentally kicked himself. Fuck._

_Trevor wrapped his hand around Michael's and pulled them deeper and deeper into the darkened woods. Michael wanted to slow down. His side was killing him but he didn't say anything and grunted through the pain. Literally. He had to put his coat sleeve up to his mouth to stop the heavy agonizing breathes because it would give away their spot and also because he didn't want Trevor to know about it because Trevor would make a big fucking deal out of it like always._

_Michael remained calm. Raising his heart rate would only increase the blood flow. His mom had taught him that one after his dad got wasted with a shot gun and shot Michael in the shoulder blade when he was eight. They didn't have money to go to the hospital so Michael knew how to handle this from his mom who dabbed the blood with coffee tissues she had gotten from the tittie bar. Michael just had forgotten how it stung like a motherfucker._

_"Everything alright back there M?"_

_"Never better T."_

_The fingers around his wrist clamped tighter at that and Michael's stomach dropped._

_Trevor knew._

_Michael's knees bucked and the world was spinning. Trevor caught him before his knees hit the ground._

_"You lying fuck." Trevor hissed in his ear as he pulled Michael into his arms and made a brake for their hideout tent in the back of the woods. There were medical supplies there. He could just-_

_and Michael slipped into the darkness._

"Can't get enough of the celebrities, can you? Ten fucking minutes in L.S."

"Shut up!"

"That cocksucker might be famous but ARUGHHHHHH!"

This was not going well. Trevor was going to kill this guy and then most likely kill Michael. 

"We'll get him! We'll get him!" 

"Well, we are sure taking our time about it!"

Then the coward turned into the...aw fuck this was about to get good. 

"Ah ah! He's going down to the L.S River."

"I can see that!" Trevor barked at him. "I hate that closeted man whore on tv, I hate him on the radio and I hate him even more in person! He was NEVER funny!"

Trevor used to go on those rants all the time and could quite possibly get into an argument with almost anyone about anything. Alcohol, sexuality, sports, people making fun of his cute little mini Canadian accent, Michael's family, Michael's choice, someone calling him a motherfucker, or looking at him the wrong way. Michael always found in amusing even when he was on the receiving end of it. Not to mention Michael was one of the only people who could tease Trevor and not end up disemboweled at the bottom of a ditch. Or at least until now. 

Surprisingly Michael wasn't even scared at this point. He was more disappointed than anything and his for real funeral was going to be even more pathetic than his fake one. The priest was going to say something along the lines of "Here lies Michael a fucking dumbass who sat on his ass all day and did absolutely nothing and let his whole family descend into chaos. Second chances my ass." Michael sighed when he thought about it. It was more sad than scary. Maybe Trevor would go easy on him. 

"Let guy's all out of juice." Trevor chuckled as he stopped the truck. Lazlow was holding his hands up as though he were trying to surrender. Fucking pathetic but Michael would be lying if he didn't feel for this attention whore somewhat. In a weird twisted way. 

The two stepped out and went to the man about to piss himself. "Hey...hey guys."

"Hey...hey guys." Trevor mocked before clocking his head to most likely decide which part of Lazlow to skin first. "You run out of batteries? Hm?" 

The two closed in like vultures descending on their prey and closed in Lazlow as he half-assed his way through excuses. "I didn't mean anything by it alright?"

Trevor's eyes were set on fire at that comment. "Oh yeah? Well, that little girl sat on my lap when she was two years old and I swore to God I would rip the fucking skin off anyone who fucking wronged her!"

Trevor wasn't kidding either. Once at a Thanksgiving dinner Trevor had forced himself into Tracey had ranted about her male PE teacher who had apparently tried to touch her underwear. Michael was about to have a "conversation" with this child molester when he received a call a day later from Trevor telling him the issue was taken care of and to turn to channel nine which was currently running a news story on a guy found in pieces in the river. Fucking terrifying. 

Lazlow turned to Michael who was giving an equally terrifying glare for moral support. "Look. I'm just a dumb A-list celeberity trying to entertain America okay? I got a lot of stuff going on right now dude besides you trying to kill me. Now I got multiple sexual harassment lawsuits plus I'm an addict. Alright? And I've relapsed alright? I can't stop jacking it dude. I jack in traffic." 

Both Trevor and Michael exchanged a humorous look. When between them they had both participated in every type of drug trade and done every drug even ones that weren't listed in the addiction part of the DSMV there really wasn't a lot of sob stories one could share that would shock or gain sympathy points from either man. Michael remembered with a shudder his time getting off of a particular drug which mostly involved 24/7 erections and vomiting into a bucket Trevor held beneath him. 

"What's your talent huh? I mean aside from love and sex."

Lazlow looked bewirled at the question as though Trevor was the stupidest person here. "Dude haven't you seen my show? It's not live, it's not funny. That's my genuis. I got no fucking talent."

Alright this was getting tedious. "Clearly he ain't being humble T. You proved your point."

"Yeah!" Lazlow said pointing at Michael. 

Trevor turned to Michael with that same disappointed sad look he sent him when he stopped the car to give Michael his whiney speech on friendship a few minutes ago. Trevor was a murdering pyschopath. How the fuck was he making Michael feel guilty? "This is your daughter! You should be wanting to rip the fucking ponytail off the back of this guy's head!" 

Trevor whirled around to face Lazlow. "And you! Pants! Off!" 

Michael felt uneasy. Was Trevor seriously about to rape someone here and now in front of him? Jesus Christ where did he go wrong? The voice that exclaimed "you know" wasn't helping him feel any better. Jesus. 

Then when Michael saw what Trevor was really doing he couldn't help but laugh. Lazlow danced like stripper as Trevor filmed the entire thing. Michael was chuckling to himself and Trevor was smiling at him over his shoulder. Why was it that Michael could only seem to bond with others during violent acts? The fuck was wrong with him? 

Then Lazlow toppled over while explaining "Please don't kill me alright. I'm supposed to be on a magazine cover next week."

Michael sighed and pulled Lazlow up as he screamed "No! No!" 

"Take off." Michael said as he pushed the squealing bag of dick tips towards the bridge. "Go! Now! Before I change my mind!"

"I got it all on my camera you fucking pussy! The world's gonna see your shit!" Trevor called after him as Michael stared bareling over laughing. 

"I'm going home." 

Trevor grinned at him and said "How the fuck did you do it without me for nine years? Huh?" Trevor laughed as he got back into the truck and Michael watched him go. The gravity of the entire situation hit him like a box of cans and he mumbled "oh shit." to himself. This was not going to go well for him. He quickly began to pound Dave's dights in and held his breath as he heard the dial tone buzz in his ear.

"Dave."

"We need to talk."

"I was about to tell you the same thing."

"Okay. Meet me at Galileo Obervetory as soon as you can get there."

"Okay."

When he pulled the phone away from his ear he almost gagged when he saw a new contact added. Trevor. Dear God. 

_Dave Norton wasn't really sure what to say. That was rare for him. He felt the familar sense of uncertainty followed by fear drag into his throat._

_"Could you say that again Jance?"_

_"Michael Townley sir. He's in the waiting room. Says he's turning himself in." She looked just as baffled as he was. What the fuck was going on?_

_"Well is he-is he armed?" Dave said shaking his head in disbelief at the whole situation._

_"No. Chase gave him the strip search. No sign of a weapon or wire on him anywhere. He says he wants to speak with someone about this matter."_

_Dave shook his head in disbelief. "Send him up."_

_"But sir Townley's a known cri-"_

_"I said send him up. Let's see what he wants."_

_Jaunce just nodded and began making her way down to where Townley was. Jesus fucking Christ. Dave was not mentally or physically prepared to handle whatever the fuck this was about but it sure beat investigating child abuse cases for once. He sighed and turned towards the window to watch the snowflakes fall outside. He needed a fucking vacation._

_He heard the door open and close and meek footsteps follow. He heard the chair squeak as someone sat down. No doubt it was Townley. Or Jaunce coming to lecture him on something else. Dave slowly turned and there no doubt was the man he had been helping to hunt for years. Well one of them anyways._

_Michael wasn't looking at him and was staring at his feet which he was tapping nervously. Dave had to say Michael looked a lot different than what Dave had originally thought he would. This was a young man who now resembled the little boy who sat in his office yesterday with bruises down his neck and who insisted he had gotten them from kickball and not his dad. They both sat with their shoulders sucked in, knees close together and head down. As though he was trying to fold himself into a box and disappear._

_Michael was wearing a jacket that had a pattern resembling a checkerboard, black gloves covering his fidgeting hands, and jeans that were filthy. Dave scratched the back of his head as it occurred to him that he was the one who held this man's fate in his arms. He didn't like that feeling one bit._

_Dave cleared his throat while he shifited nervously in his rolling office chair and Michael slowly looked up at the noise. The man had the bluest eyes he had ever seen. There was a deep sadness in them. Jesus this was hard. Dave looked over towards the printer to look anywhere else while mentally kicking himself for agreeing to cover the office hours for pretty much everyone today. It was January first and it was just another reminder Dave had no social life and now he had to deal with whatever this was. Great. Just fucking perfect._

_Dave cleared his throat and attempted conversation. "I must admit you aren't what I expected. I mean the way Weasel News talks about you I was expecting some devil horns or sharp teeth." He laughed until he realized he was the only one laughing. His therapist was right. He needed to get out more. Now he couldn't even talk to criminals properly._

_"So you are probably wondering why I am here." Michael finally said after the beat of awkward silence._

_Dave shrugged. "That's certainly one way of looking at it."_

_"I know I've done some things. Unforgivable things. And I know what you must think of me." Michael sucked in a deep breath and his eyes darted manically back and forth as though trying to think of what to say next. He didn't look at Dave but at the window outside. Dave couldn't blame him. This whole situation felt tense and Dave wasn't even the one in trouble here._

_"Look I'm just gonna skip the schematics and jump right into it." Michael reached into his jacket pocket and Dave instinctively reached for his pistol situated on his left hip and tensed up. What Michael brought out wasn't a gun but a small book that he placed on the table and gently shoved towards Dave's direction._

_Dave raised an eyebrow and Michael waved it towards him as though giving him permission to open it. Dave sucked in his breath and half expected to find pictures of dismembered FIB agents in the woods or a bus full of school kids underground Michael was holding for ransom. What he wasn't expecting was a picture of a girl and a boy jumping off a swing into a pile of leaves. He turned the page and saw a picture of Michael and a woman in wedding clothes and the picture next to it of Michael holding the shoulders of a little boy with curly red hair who is building a sandcastle. Dave turned to the next page and saw the same boy with a baseball bat and another picture of the woman in the wedding dress and the young girl baking some pizza. He turned to the next page and saw Michael in a pool with the girl on his shoulders and the woman (who he guessed was his wife) holding the little boy in swim floaties. There was another picture of all of them together at dinner in a nice restaurant, a picture of the little girl posing with a violin, the boy holding a hockey stick, the wife in a floral sundress posing in some tropical location and two pictures of both kids obviously in some kind of school uniform. He turned the page and almost gasped when he saw the picture of all of them in Christmas sweaters together and fucking Trevor Phillips was there too. He handed the book back to Michael who took it and placed it back in his pocket._

_Dave didn't remember there being a file on Michael Townley having a family. He didn't remember anyone saying anything about Townley having a family. Family and Michael Townley didn't seem to fit together in his mind. He suddenly felt as though there were nails under his ass and shifted uncomfortably in his seat._

_Dave shook his head and said almost angrily "Why did you come here? Is all this supposed to make me feel sorry for you? What could you have possibly expected to gain from this? Should I absolve you of all your crimes because you have a wife and kids I didn't know about til ten seconds ago?" He wasn't really mad at Michael. He was more mad at the situation than anything else._

_Michael didn't say anything for a moment seeming to take in air slowly and choosing his next words wisely. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I just want you to understand."_

_"Understand? Understand what? That you are a thief? That you steal, murder, and lie and because you have a family that somehow makes it okay? I'm sure that the men you killed in cold blood had families too."_

_Michael sighed and rubbed the heels of his palms against his forehead and said almost so quietly Dave had to lean closer to hear him. " It wasn't my family's fault. They had nothing to do with it. My wife had no idea of anything I was doing. I don't care what you do to me. Just promise me you'll take care of my family. Take them far away from here. I don't care where. Just keep my kids away from this life. I don't want them to get into drugs, crimes, and prostitution like I did."_

_Dave nodded as though he understood. He didn't fully but he could sort of understand. "I had a daughter too."_

_Michael looked up as Dave grabbed the photo on his desk of the last school photo taken of Emily and held it out for Michael to see._

_"She's very pretty."_

_"Yes. She takes that from her mother. Certainly not from me." Dave put the photo back and looked down at the desk. "She was also kind and smart and loved reality tv."_

_"Fame or Shame?"_

_Dave chuckled fondly at the memory of his daughter dancing with the poor souls trying to get a taste for reality tv in their parish living room. "Yes. She loved that show."_

_Dave shrugged his shoulders and cracked his neck before continuing. "I didn't always work for the FIB you know. I used to work for the North Yankton State Patrol. I was mostly involved with drug traffickers. You and Phillips gave us quite a run for our money a couple of times. Killed some good men."_

_Michael nodded and looked down in shame. "Yeah. Sorry about that."_

_"Emily was a good girl. So smart. She got good grades. Honor roll and all that." Dave smiled to himself. "She hated chemistry though."_

_Michael smiled genuinely for the first time and chuckled softly. "My Tracey hates that stuff too. Threw her textbook across the kitchen one time."_

_"If you think that's bad Emily knocked out her tutor's tooth."_

_"No shit. Really?"_

_"Yes. Came clean out. They were doing Lewis Structures and apparently she had done every single one wrong. My wife heard screaming coming from the foyer and ran in to see what the commotion was and saw poor Emmanual holding his tooth in his palm and blood all over the carpet. My wife almost flogged me when I laughed when Emily confessed to what she had done at the dinner table. Had to sleep on the couch that night."_

_Michael started laughing more confidently. "Once my son Jimmy got into a fight when he was eight with this other kid on his baseball team. Over something stupid like bases or something. I was QB in high school so I don't really know too much about the sport. Anyways this super tall kid he's fighting with takes a wiffle bat and knocks Jimmy out cold. My wife Mandy takes him to the hospital and calls me and I go down there and when my son finally wakes up he's crying his head off and Mandy is freaking out because she thinks he's in pain but really Jimmy thought the impact of the baseball bat had cut off his ear. So he's holding the side of his head going 'Dad! My ear! My ear's gone!' We decided to let em take a break from baseball after that."_

_"Jimmy's the one with the red curls?"_

_"Oh yeah. No idea where he gets that from. I mean Mandy's grandmother had curls so perhaps from there. Once Trevor told Jimmy he was actually his real father when Amanda was away on some girl's wine tasting retreat and we both were watching the kids. Jimmy cried for two hours straight and I swear to God I almost killed that asshole."_

_Something snapped in Dave's head at that. "W-wait. Trevor? As in Trevor Phillips? You let that psychopathic murderer near your kids."_

_Michael shrugged. "I have a rule. No drugs or murder in the house so... Besides he would never hurt them."_

_Dave squinted hard trying to imagine Phillips with kids. He must have shown his disgusted attitude on his face because Michael continued to defend himself._

_"I mean he's Hell walking on Earth. Don't get me wrong. Kills people in broad daylight, takes things too far, always has some bloodlust he has to satisfy. If I were you I would start praying to whatever religion you believe in to never come anywhere near him. But he isn't all bad. I guess."_

_"You two are close I take it?"_

_And just like that, it felt as though something snapped in Michael's head and all joy was sucked out of his face. "Not really. Just business partners really. I mean Trevor cane be really fucking funny and a great guy to hang out with and pull heists with but he is still an egocentric douchebag who doesn't give a fuck about nobody but himself."_

_"Who you let your kids around?"_

_"So how did you come to working here?"_

_"What?"_

_"The FIB? You said you used to work for NYSP busting drug coops and prostitute rings. What happened?"_

_Dave sighed. "My daughter died."_

_The room went silent for a good five seconds before Michael mumbled: "I'm sorry man."_

_Dave nodded and cleared his throat. "Yeah."_

_"My kids are my life. I don't know what I would do if one of them passed."_

_Dave looked at the photo of Emily's smile and said quietly "To be honest with you man, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing half the time and I've experienced it first hand."_

_Michael gave him a sympathetic smile and said gently "I know it's not my place but do you mind me asking how she passed."_

_"Overdose. Suicide."_

_"Oh. Jesus. I'm sorry to hear that."_

_"Yeah. She was only fourteen years old."_


	3. Chapter 3

"Davey! How you doing?" 

To say Dave had had it up to the skyline with Michael was a massive understatement. Michael had one job. One job. And he couldn't even do that. Damn. 

"About as good as can be expected. But the news is not good." Michael came to stand next to him. He was tense. Michael couldn't lie correctly if his life depended on it. Something had happened. 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Dave in that moment swore to God if Trevor Phillips didn't kill this motherfucker he was going to. 

"I know you did that fucking jewelry job." Dave gratted his teeth. Michael was already considered dead by most of the world. Why had he agreed to help Michael with this? Why? 

Because Michael was charming, manipulative, and a family man. Damn him. 

"Davey you're imagining things. Seriously." 

Dave was not putting up with this shit. "Fuck. You." He put a hand over his eyes. Oh, he was fucked. More than fucked. Steve Haines was not happy with him even though it was Michael who had broken their agreement. 

"Alright. I did it. Arrest me. You know what? You'll be saving my life. Because you called it motherfucker."

Dave turned to Michael. Now what? "What?"

"You called it." 

Oh God. Oh sweet fucking Jesus. This. Was. Bad. Well he and Michael were both dead. Great. Just fucking perfect. 

"Trevor." Even saying that name sent shivers down his spine. Dave had to look behind him to make sure that egotistical psycho wasn't there waiting like a lion in the rappters. There was no one on this Earth who Dave wanted dead more than that fucker. He knew where he was and even had those trainiees send him letters. But the FIB won't let him because they could use him. They had just been waiting for the right moment. Him working with Michael had led to this whole shit storm of the FIB making deals with and manipulating criminals who deserved to be locked up or shot in the face. He wasn't the first but he still felt somewhat responsible. 

"Couple days ago. We haven't really talked about anything either."

Dave sucked in a breath. "If no then when? If he starts asking questions about why you're not feeding worms south of the Canadian border." No matter which way Dave sliced it there was no good way of looking at this. 

"Oh, we got problems." 

"Yeah, no shit."

If it wasn't illegal Dave would throw Michael off this roof but then again he would probably be dead in twenty minutes anyways. God Steve Haines was an asshole. For all his asshole qualities Michael was really the only person Dave could be around without feeling like he was being judged. Michael had done terrible unspeakable things and didn't really get along to well with other people and Dave's social skills were not much better off. Everyone he worked with was either an asshole or working in some corrupt mission he felt like there were very few people he could hang out with and let the politics stay out of conversations. But now that was being taken away too. 

Dave sighed as he said "We're in it."

Michael nodded before saying "Yeah. But together."

For all his flaws Michael had one characteristic Dave could admire and that was his sense of responsibility. Michael could have run away but he was here attempting to work it out just like in North Yankton all those years ago. The piece of shit hated himself but it made it all the more easier to get to his soft spots and manipulate it to his advantage. It sounded harsh but Michael was a criminal so who really gave a shit at this point. 

"So if your problems are my problems...then I guess that means that my problems are sort of your problems." 

Michael acting like a douchebag as always proceeded to laugh at Dave while going "Nuh-uh. Nope." 

It was cute that Michael thought he had a choice in the matter. Perhaps Haines was right in that it was time for Michael to start remembering who was in charge here. 

Dave moved closer to Michael. "Well, what if I lose my job? Someone comes into my office, starts reading my files, they'll see the things I did. I know a lot of stuff. I can cope a plea. Get five years? But you?" 

He felt Michael tense next to him as he said that. Dave knew what Michael was thinking about. His family. Dave didn't even have to say it. 

Michael scowled at him. "Fuck. You. You ungrateful prick. I made your career."

It took everything in Dave not to laugh at that last bit. "Well, then we better go about saving it together because you and I both know we can't let it go to shit now."

Michael turned towards the building and his eyes were moving from corner to corner much like they did when he sat in Dave's office begging for a better life for his family. This wasn't the first time they had used Michael but Trevor? Now that he knew it was only a matter of time before he could start milking that resource too. And that kid he was with who probably did the jewelry store job? Perfect. Three wise monkies. 

Michael turned to him. "What do you need?"

Dave handed him a photo. "This guy. Ferdinand Kerimov." Michael swiped it out of his hand. "The agency thinks he's dead. We at the bureau think they're full of crap. We think he's being debriefed someplace."

"So?" 

"Apparently he has information which will put me and a lot of my supieors out of circulation. Those agencies fuckers have got the coroner's office locked down. We need you to verify the body."

"So how the hell am I gonna get in here?"

Dave pulled out his baton that had been burning his pocket like fire now. "Well you've played dead before haven't you?"

With that, he smacked Michael and watched him go down like an elephant on cocaine. 

"I have always kinda liked you. Didn't want to have to do it to you Michael but you made it way too easy. Call me when you wake up." 

It wasn't a lie. As he had said before Michael could be a piece of shit at times but the worse part was Michael genuinely was trying to get better and cared about his family. He was also entertaining to keep around. Didn't help with the guilt though. 

He began undressing Michael and before putting his phone in an *ahem* interesting place where he could find it he quickly uploaded the contacts to a hard drive in the laptop he had in the van. So many unruly characters. And a therapist? Michael truly was pathetic but Haines would no doubt find this information useful. 

About two hours later while Dave was going through Michael's emails, phone calls and contacts he got a call from Michael himself. He motioned Haines in the room so he could listen in on it. 

Michael was whispering so it was hard to hear him. Had to make everything difficult as always. "I found the toe tag. It's on some nig black lady definitely not your guy."

Haines began writing something down on his clip board before motioning towards the security footage. Dave nodded. 

"Okay. The Agency have the lower floors on lockdown to prevent a leak. I got a guy who had cut the power to give you some help but you'll have to get upstairs if you're going to get out."

They watched Michael escape and get into a car by tracking his phone. But he wasn't going home. Or to any place where he could hide. He was calling someone. 

That Franklin kid. 

"Patch us in!" Dave screamed to one of the agents who did just that. 

**F: Hey Mike.**

**M: F, hey we need to talk. Quick. Meet me at those oil derricks just outside town. El Burro Heights. Make sure you're not tailed.**

**F: Man that don't sound too good homie. Look I'm on my way.**

**End Call.**

"The fuck are they up to?" Haines said. 

"Jewelry job or something else most likely?" Dave said shrugging. "Look. Don't worry about it. Michael's got nowhere to go." At least Dave hoped that was the case and Michael had gotten all the stupid out of him on that last heist. He really didn't want to have to put Michael down. 

Haines laughed as they went through all Michael's personal information. 

"Look at this shit. Fucker's in therapy! Jesus Christ and I thought he couldn't get any more pathetic!" They began pulling up images and medical documents laughing at what came up. 

"Pissed himself on depression pills. Premature ejaculation. Michael paid for waxing as well within the past 48 hours."

"Aw, that's cute. Look's like our little buddy has trouble getting it up."

"His poor wife. Perhaps that's why she cheats on him so much."

"Lester Crest? Who the fuck is that?"

"The reason we couldn't catch Townley and Phillips all those years ago most likely." 

"I want these medical files printed out. Seems like Dr. Freilander is a bit of a loose mouth and doesn't adhere to his medical code. Look at this shit. He's been selling Michael's story since their first therapy sessions and Michael aparently is a lonely social outcast who can't keep his mouth shut either. Look at this. Fears his wife and kids viewing him as a monster. Child abuse problems. Problems with accepting failure. Narcissist. Can't seem to keep in his fucking pants."

"Perhaps he's got blue balls. Guy hasn't paid for a stipper in about a year. Looks like his wife has gotten busy though."

"His wife is on HushMush. She also was on some site for survivors of sexual assault. Look at this bullshit. 'one of the clients took advantage of me I couldn't scream for help or do anything about it.' Yeah maybe you shouldn't have been a whore. God damn. She had a nice ass though. **"**

"Oh my fucking God look how many plastic surgeries she's had in the past ten years. Jesus Michael is a fucking beta male."

"That's not all. Looks like our pal Michael here was abused too. Search history of repetitively looking up 'night terrors about past sexual abuse.' Looks like he was someone else's bitch before he got sent to prision."

"Waking up screaming? How pathetic! Screenshot that."

"How to get my kids to like me? All is not happy in that house hold."

"Look at this too. Like mother like daughter I guess. Although I must say she has a nice rack."

"His son isn't too much better off. Look at these weight charts. Gaining weight like an elephant. And these game logins. Jesus if I had a son this useless I would have thrown him out on the streets by now."

"Looks like his wife also ordered a vibrator. Looks like you were right about that whole blue balls thing."

"Penis enlargement pills? Like father like son?"

"Apparently his daughter has also been fucking around with webcams as well."

"She also can't keep food in her stomach. Look at these dieting Lifeinvader groups she's a part of."

"And look at this Clinton kid. Jesus. Talk about childhood tramua."

"Lives with his aunt? What a fucking loser?" 

"She's one of those feminist types."

"Looks like Michael's bitch is banging the yoga instructor too. Should we tell him?"

"I think he already knows based on his therapist notes."

"Fuck! And I thought Michael was the cool one. What a fucking cunt."

"How small is this man's dick? His wife clearly thinks it."

"And look at this faggot. Kicked out of the Royal Canadian Air Force for his temper."

"He shoved a hockey stick up his coach's ass. Someone's a sore loser."

"Aw looks like Tricia has daddy issues too." 

"Look at all these group homes. And he ran away looking for his mom several times. Moma's boy."

"Don't let this psycho hear you say that. Look at this shit."

"Ew. The fuck?"

"Jesus Christ! Turn that shit off! I wanted to have a good time not play whose the cannibal. Get off that shit."

"And look. Looks like our Trevor here hangs out with conspiracy theorists."

"And his ex-wife sued him for everything. What is with all these faggots?"

"I'm telling you man this modern feminist stuff has got all the women up their asses these days."

"Well looks like Michael is kissing his wife's ass before she sucks his balls."

"Does he even have any? Probably fell off along with his masculinity."

Dave had to walk out of the room after some time feeling worse than he had before. This wasn't the first time FIB agents in his department had done this. No doubt Merryweather and Devin Weston would be getting in on Michael's inability to get it up as well. Dave sipped his coffee and secretly hoped they won't use the information to hurt his family or Michael. He had after all always considered Michael as a friend of sorts. 

He felt his phone ring and saw it was Michael. He walked out of earshot where agents were currently laughing about Michael getting beat by his drunk dad and Franklin crying in court after his grandparents died. There was low and then there was too low. What Michael didn't know won't hurt him. At least he hoped not. 

"Dave the hell was that? You know how many spooks I just ran into?"

Of course, Dave knew. He had been watching the entire time. "I'm sorry they're not nice people if it's any consolation." They really weren't but honestly what was Michael expecting? Scented towels and some cookies? 

"What's going on?"

Might as well be honest. Haines won't like this but who the fuck cared what he thought at this point. "There's a target out there. Something in the shadows. The data. Algorithms are reading off the charts. Whoever finds it the bueru or the agency is going to get a big bump in funding."

There was a loud uproar in the room Dave had walked away from. Apparently Michael had made the mistake of leaving his desktop open while changing and now they had confirmation Michael actually did have a penis. Dave sighed. Fucking morons. Swore into protecting the country and now they were measuring dick sizes. The nation was doomed.

"Like I care about your funding? I'm out Dave!" 

It was still just as funny as the first time Michael thought he had a choice. 

"You're not. I need you to meet my boss. We'll be downtown in the plaza between the FIB and the IAA buildings."

"The IAA building? You fucking kidding me after the spat I just had with those Agency men?" 

"Be there."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Franklin was there. Michael made sure to leave his cellphone in the car as he had no idea what the FIB was up to. He had made stupid decisions. There was no reason for Franklin to get involved in this shit. 

"Hey Franklin." He motioned for him to come closer until they were meer inches apart. 

"What's going on?" Poor Franklin. He looked so scared and confused and Michael was mentally kicking himself for getting this kid involved with this freak show in any way. 

"You got to get outta town."

Franklin looked even more confused. "Man I ain't exactly got nowhere to go."

"Well then take a trip. A long trip." Michael made sure to emphasize the long part. He wanted to keep this kid as far away from this FIB nonsense as possible. 

"What the fuck is going on?" Jesus. What was this twenty questions or some shit like that?

"Things alright!" Fuck. What was he doing?

He motioned for Franklin to follow him and made sure to make his voice more gentle this time. "Look you remember how I told you I know people? Feds who looked after me when I retired?"

"You did?" So that was a no then. Michael mentally kicked himself five times. 

"Yeah I did. I mean I think I did. I don't know. Shit! Jesus Christ Franklin, I got so many stories I can't even keep em straight! I'm full of shit!"

Franklin just rolled his eyes at that. "Yeah but your full of shit got me a lot of paper. One score with you and I made more money than I ever did hustling." 

"Yeah! I'm a great theif! But you know it's the other shit I ain't got figured out." Understatement of the fucking century. 

"So what's the deal man? What's the deal with the bureau man?"

Might as well tell the truth for once in his sorry life. "This clown I mean he's an okay guy. FUCKING COCKSUKER!" Franklin just stared at Michael like he had lost his goddamned mind. He probably had. "We did this deal a long time ago. Didn't go quite the way it was supposed to go. Wrong guy got killed. So I had to go into kind of a witness protection program. He helped me, I didn't reveal his secrets and everything was cool. Problem started when recently I became unretired. I mean he shows up, starts calling in favors, telling me to do shit. Look Franklin, I'm working for the fucking Feds."

Franklin gave him a disgusted look before shaking his head. "Ah fuck man!" 

How dare this little asshole give him a look like that? Judging him like! "Ah fuck yeah is right! AND THAT AIN'T EVEN THE WORSE PART!" 

Franklin sighed angirly and turned back to look at him. 

"I ever tell you about Trevor? Huh?"

Now Franklin looked scared and was backing away from him. Good. He should be scared.

"Um...man...I think so...shit."

"Well if you only think so then I wasn't being completely honest. He's...he's..." How would one go about describing Trevor? "I don't know! Hell walking on Earth! That's what he is!"

Franklin just shook his head. "Well then let's bury this motherfucker!"

Michael couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Franklin trying to take on Trevor. "Oh yeah, good luck with that! Look I mean Trevor and I got history! Complicated fucking history!"

Franklin was walking away and Michael wasn't about to be responsible for this kid getting his fucking brains beat out because Trevor had it out for him. He was okay with Trevor killing him or the Feds or the IAA or whatever terrorist threat was going on or whatever other shit he was getting roped into. Franklin didn't deserve to suffer for his sins though. Michael grabbed his sleeve and took a breath to calm himself down before he spoke. "Look I done a lot of things that I ain't proud of. I ain't claim to be no angel. But you met Trevor you'll swear I am an angel."

Franklin looked at him with a mixture of disappointment and anger. The last fucking thing Michael needed right now. "So what's the move then man?"

"I don't know!" Michael said it so loud Franklin actually jumped back. Michael paced back. "Fuck. I'm just gonna you know try to play both sides. You know until I can find a way out of this shit."

Franklin walked closer to Michael and said gently "Alright man look man you helped me. The way I see it man the least I can do is help you." Michael gave him the dad glare which he hoped was intimidating enough. "It's a death sentence Franklin." Franklin wasn't listening to him. "Man I ain't trying to hear all that shit man. If the Bureau ain't gonna take you to court them motherfuckers just hustlers anyways. And I ain't fixing to let no motherfucking cat think he's so motherfucking crazy run me up a tree? Fuck that!" Michael grabbed his shoulder and said gentely "You're a good kid Franklin." Franklin started trying to walk off again but Michael held tight. "This means a lot to me. Like I told you I'm a terrific theif. I'll find something for ya. Big. Come on. You better take off." Franklin nudged his shoulder and said "Alright man. I'm with you. I'm with you." Michael watched Franklin drive off before going back to the car he had taken to see his phone was ringing. "Hey Trace! What's up?" "What's up? Are you joking? You ruined my life!" "I did? I thought I had already ruined you life. Remember after that boat thing." Oh great. Now Tracey was pissed. "Take this seriously! Do you know how bad I wanted that? Fame or Shame is like an amazing oppurtunity! You're such a fucking fuck you really are!" Michael rolled his eyes as he almost crashed into a car. "You'll get over it. You'll see. I did you a favor." That was apparently the wrong thing to say. "Never! I hate you!" With that, the call ended. Michael banged on his steering wheel. "Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" Now his phone was ringing again. Trevor. Fuck. "It's Trevor. You remember me? Let's make up for lost time okay?" "Now is really not a good time Trevor." He hung up the phone before Trevor could respond. He was fucked.


	4. Chapter 4

_"I just have one question, Michael."_

_"Okay look, Dave. I know what you are going to say. I wasn't trying to double-cross you. I swear."_

_Dave sighed and shuffled the papers around on his desk. "I know. Or maybe I don't. You aren't exactly the most honest person in the world."_

_"You shot the wrong person. Had nothing to do with me."_

_Dave winced. Of all the times to miss a shot and hit the wrong person it had to be when he was aiming for Trevor Phillips. "So when I shot Brad and then I shot you it looked like from where I was standing the two of you were talking."_

_Michael looked down guilt filling his blue eyes. Ah ha. Yeah "Trevor Phillips and I aren't friends my ass." Dave thought to himself._

_"I mean we did-"_

_"And what did you talk about Michael? You see because normally in these situations the logical thing would have been to say 'Trevor come over here and rescue me' or 'Trevor come grab the money I am holding in my hands' not 'Trevor get out of here and run in the opposite direction of where Dave has a clear shot at your chest. Based on his meltdown he looked like he would have more than been willing to try and help you."_

_Michael visibly winced at that last part. "I guess-I guess I just panicked."_

_Dave shook his head but decided to make a choice his supioers had suggested. "Look we have an anonymous tip of where Trevor Phillips is. I'll clean up in North Yankton. You don't have to worry about anything." That was a lie but it had to be said. Michael clearly was a lot closer to Phillips than he was letting on and Dave couldn't risk Trevor and Michael teaming up or something like that behind his back._

What Dave hadn't intended was this whole situation getting out of hand when Michael decided to do a fucking jewelry job while in witness protection. Michael's home life wasn't great and they were now going to have Trevor Phillips assist Michael on a mission. There were many things Michael kept private and secret from him and things that Dave wasn't a 100% sure about. But there was one thing he was sure of and that was that Phillips loved Michael. Deeply. To the point where Dave actually genuinely felt for the guy. 

Dave had decided to start sending letters posing as Brad when it became clear Trevor wasn't going to be coming to visit him anytime soon. It complicated things but not necessarily in a bad way. But one of the letters that was sent back to them was disturbing. And not in the "Trevor Phillips is a serial killer" kind of disturbing but in the "I'm in mourning" sort of disturbing. It's like that uncle you had who would always drink and seemed to care about only alcohol but then when his wife died at the funeral you realized how much he genuinely cared. It was unnerving to say the least but then again kind of sweet in a fucked up way. 

It reminded Dave a little too much of one of the drug swingers he had arrested in his time in the NYPD. The man was a lunatic and had killed eight police officers but he was enduring and had a fucked up childhood. It's hard to blindly despise someone when you know them on a personal level or even begin to understand them a bit. This was how Dave had gotten himself into this fucking mess with Michael. Dave was too damn understanding. 

"I'm telling you it's a bad idea." Dave said before taking a sip of coffee that was more choclate syrup then coffee. He needed something sweet and something to wake him up. He even imagined slipping some vodkla into his cup but had decided against it. 

"What do you mean it's a bad idea? Having Michael, Trevor and that black guy do this shit for us is foolproof. And if the Agency pricks fucking catch them we can just pin it on them and walk away Scott free. Jesus Norton. Please ask your boyfriend Michael for some of his anti-depressants so you can lighten the fuck up." 

Dave bite his tongue and thought about his next words carefully. "I'm telling you Michael and Trevor are a lot closer than they have been letting on. And Franklin Clinton and Michael. I'm just telling you there is something more going on there."

Haines just rolled his eyes and proceeded to laugh it off. Dave was not about to get a bullet in his fucking forehead because mr.douchebag wanted to play fast and loose with a cannibalistic serial killer with mommy issues, a bitchy former thief and some ex-gangster with daddy problems. But did anyone ever listen to him? No. 

It was morning when they finally went to meet Michael. Or rather Michael came to met them. And the man looked like he hadn't slept in a week. But then again hanging around Trevor Phillips would do that to a person Dave would imagine. But it was clouding his judgement although Dave had to admit seeing Haines get his metaphorical ass handed to him by Michael's sarcastic antics felt like universal reparations for all the times Dave had not been able to say "I told you so" when one of Haines's stupid ideas almost got them all killed for the sixteenth time. By the time the two of the finally got to walk away from Steve the asshole and his side piece, Michael was already chewing him out over this whole situation. 

Now Dave wasn't really fully on board with the whole getting Trevor and Franklin on board for this but it wasn't really his choice. He already had a helicopter sent to go and pick up the psychopath but decided not to tell Michael that until later. He wanted to see how their relationship was faring first and then decide carefully how much information to give Michael. 

"I need you to make a few calls to get some people on board. First guy is Franklin Clinton." 

Dave noticed the way Michael tensed up when he said that. Looks like this wasn't purely a business relationship with the kid. Sucks to suck. Should have made better life choices. 

"Hey, I barely know that kid. He's fixing up my car." 

Dave almost laughed when he said that. The number of times Michael had lied one would think he would have been better at it by now. But then again Michael was being the penical of stupidity lately. He narrowed his eyes towards Michael. "Call him or we'll send some G-men to his aunt's house." 

That got him moving to pull out his phone. "Okay okay."

Michael was hoping Franklin didn't pick up. Dave could see it on his face and saw the sadness when evidently Franklin did. Why the fuck did Dave always end up in these fucking situations? 

"Hey sorry about that. Listen. You know that thing we talked about before? It's happening. I need you to come to a lot off El Rancho not far from where we met before." 

Michael hung up the phone and gave Dave a "happy now" face. The grouchier Michael got the more his sass shown through and the more he bitched about everything in between. Dave was more than happy to pump a little humility into his veins. 

"Now Trevor Phillips."

Michael's face filled with fear as he said "Oh you're crazy. I ain't calling him."

Dave sent a shit-eating grin in his direction. "I thought you might say that. So we had him picked up."

"That's a dumb move Dave. Real fucking dumb."

"Just worry about the plan okay? Getting Mr. K out of the IAA station. Clinton is going to be positioned across the street keeping an eye on the proceedings. Phillips flies you in, you rapple down, make the extraction " Dave was not in the mood to hear more of this love hate relationship. He had gotten enough of it back in North Yankton, in LS and SA. For a guy Michael claimed not care about he sure didn't shut the fuck up about him. Dave could probably write an autobiography of Trevor by now and he had only seen the guy from far away and it didn't make him any less scared of him. That psycho. Fucking disgusting waste of space. 

"And I'm the best guy you got for this?" Nope. Not by a long shot.

"With you we got good leverage."

"Great! And you brought Trevor in? We're telling him I'm all cozy with the FIB! You know what you better keep a low profile."

Speak of the devil there was Trevor waving his arms and yelling at both the FIB ariel agent Dave pitied and Franklin looking like he was about to piss himself. Dave couldn't blame him as Trevor gave him the creeps even from here. The sooner he got away from that crazy fucker the better. 

"Yeah I think I will. See you later." 

The mission was a success and Mr.K was successfully taken from the IAA and delivered to the pick up location. Things were going well if Michael wasn't bitching about it every five minutes. 

Of course, Mr.K wasn't so fortunate. Fucking Devin Weston. 

Steven Haines of course wanted to get Trevor and Michael involved again with this. 

"Let me get this straight. You want to be in a room alone with Trevor Phillips for over an hour with nothing to protect yourself with?" Dave was done with the stupidity of these people. At this point, Haines was asking to have Trevor shove a lamp down his throat and castrate him and at this point in the conversation, Dave was seriously considering handing Phillips the knife to do so. 

"Hey! You said we had that whole Brad situation to reel them in on and also the fucker has puppy eyes for Michael so it will go fine. Unless the issue here is you want to go with him since he has military training. Not a bad shot."

"No thanks. I'm good." 

"Alright. I'll give em a call. By the way, can you make sure that Weston doesn't play too rough with Mr.K. We need him somewhat conscious for the interrogation process." 

As if on cue Devin threw the bound man across the room as he scarped his face against the concrete floor. It was going to be a long process that was for fucking sure. 

Within a few minutes, Dave heard the love birds fighting outside and then his stomach fell ten floors when he realized what the fuck was going with the two of them. 

"Oh ladies!" Steve said as the two entered. Dave made sure to note how Trevor seemed to be blocking Michael behind him as though to protect him from...well them. Like an older brother would do to a younger brother. This was not going to end well for him. 

"God, you're an asshole." Dave couldn't disagree with Phillips on that. Though he wasn't any less terrifying in person. Dave quickly dug into his pockets to find a cigarette and a lighter. He needed a smoke to deal with this. 

"You! You back there! I know you!" Oh great. Fucking fantastic. Trevor knew he was. Luckily his attention was turned to Weston. "But you! You I don't know!"

"Yeah well until I see reason otherwise why don't we just keep it that way." Devin shot back with roaring arrogance. Jesus Christ. Had Dave just stumbled into stupid Ville and no one had any fucking brains in their head to realise that provoking a known serial killer was a bad fucking idea? Jesus. It was bad when the baker robber had more common sense than both the FIB head and rich asshole combined. "And Steve what a pleasure bro! Oh!"

As Devin walked past the two men Dave couldn't help but notice Trevor slowly moving his right arm in the direction of Michael as though to get ready to punch like a fucking cougar if Devin tried to hurt Michael kind of like NYPD agents were trained to do to protect bullets from trainees.

Trevor turned to Michael and said rather loudly "He looks like one of those guys who you see advertising pills for middle-aged men who can't get erections."

"Hey, Devin Weston is a very good friend of mine.


	5. Chapter 5

Michael was dead. So fucking dead. He just knew it. Trevor knew. He recognized Dave. Dave didn't seemed phased at all and unusually calm about the entire thing. 

"It's Caesar's Palace. Round the corner from your house."

Just what he needed. Commiting murder right near his house. Kids were already pissed at him. Wife was too. Just another thing to make them more angry than they already were but then again he only had himself to blame. He slide into the car and placed the case in the back. All he knew was that he did not pity the poor bastard who had to spend all that time in there with fucking Trevor of all people. Jesus Christ. He heard about this stuff on TV but to see that the FIB was doing this shit for himself...oh fucking God...shit was hitting the fan.

_"Pop seriously. Tracey hates you." Well, Jimmy had said "pop" and not "father" so he must have not been too mad._

_"What? Cuz of that Lazlow thing? She should really hate cause your the one who told us where she was you little snitch." And got Trevor involved. Great._

_"Yeah well whatever. So umm Uncle T man? What's the deal?"_

_No need to freak Jimmy out. Play it cool. Play it safe._

_"He's in town for a while."_

_Jimmy didn't look convinced but a half-truth was better than a whole lie._

_"I know we really don't talk about the whole name change thing but is that like cool? I always thought we changed the name to get away from him."_

_Guilt. Why was Michael feeling guilt? And why was his stupid son judging him? He did what he had to do. They had been over this a million times now._

_"It's fine. Trevor won't hurt you." Michael was sure of that. At least he thought he was. No. Trevor won't hurt them. He won't let him. Trevor was a freak of nature psycho but he wasn't maliciously evil._

_"I know that! Trevor loves me! I'm worried about you."_

_"It'll be okay."_

_It wasn't really going to be but keeping Trevor away from the house was best. He had put his family through enough shit. Least he could do was get decapitated and turned into a pie far away from them. He had already accepted his fate._

"Yeah the more I see of your boss the more I like him." 

Dave narrowed his eyes. "If I was you I won't be so critical of who others associate with." So Dave was still pissed. Great. Just fucking perfect. This day was getting better and better. 

"So is he going to be a problem?" 

"For sure. But there's nothing we can do about it now. If something happened to him right now I'd be under a microscope an electron microscope of bureaucratic bullshit and that would make it very difficult to keep old secrets."

Seriously? When the fuck did Dave start having a conscious about what the fuck happened to Trevor?

"Oh well boohoo for you! You know who else is having trouble keeping secrets asshole? Me! After you brought Trevor in on this."

"I only brought him in after you'd put out your press release. Townley's taking scores again? The Los Santos reboot? If we didn't control the situation and he'd unearthed this connection then what?" 

Okay. In his defense he was drunk we he did that. Stupid!

"Then Trevor flips out, beheads me, kills my whole family or raises them as his own. I don't know which is worse. Anyway, any of that could happen at any time."

Okay so that was a bit of an exaggeration 

Dave rolled his eyes. "Slow down. Let's think this through. What does he know?"

"He knows I'm alive. He knows I got money. And now he knows I'm working with the FIB."

"Does he know how long you've been working with the FIB?"

"How long? The fuck does that matter?"

Dave sighed as though Michael wasn't thinking rationally. He was. He knew Trevor better than anyone. "Either you were working with us before the cash depot job. You walked away your crew into an ambush, one of them spent ten years on the run and the other landed in a Federal penitentiary."

Oh yeah. Great job with that one Dave.

"Or?"

"Or we stumbled onto the cash depot job. Trevor went down. You went down. Trevor got away. The FIB cut you a deal on your sick bed, faked your death, and you ended up here."

Oh yeah. More lies. He wasn't putting his family through this again. 

"Whose to say which of those is true?"

"That there's any doubt that probably accounts for you being alive."

"Back there. Trevor made you out right away. The second he saw you."

Dave rolled his eyes at Michael again and sighed loudly. "You remember after the bust I was in all the papers. I was on the evening news. The man who killed Michael Townley. "

Like Michael forgot? Constant fucking blaring of one of his worst decisions by far. Or best. Worst part was he didn't know which one. 

"Yeah I was quite a trophy. A good head to hang on your wall."

"Back then sure. Not now."

In all honesty Michael kind of deserved that. Still a lot blow though. 

"This is bullshit. This place? Davey they been shooting the Real Cunts of Suburbia here for the last few weeks. No way that's your guy."

"Shit. You are kidding me. I'll call Steve."

Dave raised the phone to his ear and said rather annoyingly "Wrong house. This guy isn't _our_ guy. If we're silencing someone we're silencing the right someone. Get me another address."

Dave turned to Michael and said nonchalantly "Hey you wanna coffee?"

Michael shrugged and began to drive the car in the direction of Cool Beans. Locally sourced and with the least amount of calories. Perfect. 

Michael sighed and did the breathing exercise Dr.Frielander had told him to do to avoid screaming at his wife and kids. Screaming at Dave when most of this was his fault wasn't going to help anyone. 

"Look. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like an ass."

"You're right. You shouldn't have."

"Helpful as ever Dave." Michael sarcastically replied as he weaved his way into a parking spot near the front.

"Did you know a bunch of hipsters got their asses handed to them at the Mirror Park location?"

"Well, I would say they didn't deserve it but hipsters are kind of annoying. We got too many of em in Los Santos anyhow. I'm joking."

As they waited for their coffees Michael thought back to the whole coach incident. 

_"Dad? Tell me you did not just pull a Russian lady's house off the hill."_

_"What do you care?"_

  
_"Man coach was like my friend!"_

  
_"He ain't like your friend Jim. Friends don't bone their friends' moms in their friends' dads' beds."_

  
_"Eugh. Eugh. What?"_

  
_"Yeah. Don't hang out with that guy no more."_

_That went well. Dad brownie points. He would have to tell his therapist about this win._

_As for his wife it was more of a 5/10 in that regard._

_"What happened?"_

_"Don't worry. It doesn't concern you."_

_"Is he dead?"_

_"No, but I might be soon. Thank you so much."_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"Nothing. Nothing. Just forget about it."_

They went to drink their coffees outside. Dave was on his phone most of the time probably having to listen to Trevor torture the living daylights out of that poor guy. This was all kinds of wrong and the worst part was Dave didn't even seem phased by any of it. 

Dave came back and pointed to the car. "Chumash. You're driving. Remember terror does not take coffee breaks."

Michael sighed. "What a dick." Dave chuckled at that. 

As they began driving and almost get hit by a van full of Spanish fuckers blasting their latino music for the entire street to hear Michael couldn't help but shake the feeling of having to ask a stupid question he knew he was going to regret the answer to. 

"So how are Steve and Trevor getting along?"

"Seems like a productive relationship." Michael didn't even want to think about what that meant. 

"Well like I said he's got his uses."

"And as you can see we are trying to take full advantage of them."

"Then what?"

"This thing with the agency gets put to rest and we don't need you anymore."

Well, at least one thing was off his plate for now. But this was the least of his concerns. 

"Right and what about Trevor?"

"What about him?"

"I need some resolution Davey. You let him walk. You said you'd cleaned up the whole thing back in North Yankton."

"And you told me it'd be a clean job-no casualities. There were more eyes on that town then there needed to be."

"Yeah well according to my eyes Trevor is your problem Dave as much as he is mine."

"He's not a problem at all. We're monitoring him. Has he said anything about Brad?"

"Fuck yeah he has. Plenty. I keep changing the subject. You know he thinks you might actually commute Brad's sentence when this is all over."

Dave didn't seem phased at all. "That's good. Fine work. We'll send him another letter. It's about time anyway."

Michael wanted to slap himself for not seeing the implications sooner. Fucking Dave. Way to make a situation more difficult than it needed to fucking be. 

"So that's you who's been sending those fucking letters to Trevor huh?"

Dave actually smiled at the whole thing as though this were some mystery novel he was writing. "Yeah. He thinks they're from Brad who he thinks is locked in high security and not-well not six feet under in a grave marked Michael Townley. The trainees write them. It's a good exercise."

Jesus fucking Christ. Was everyone in the entireity of Los Santos trying to remind him of how he fucked up?

"What the fuck? How did that get started?" 

"A few years ago a letter came to the Federal prison system addressed to Brad. Wasn't signed but it gave a PO box in Sandy Shores. I played the part of Brad and we started a correspondence."

Oh, so Dave was fucking him over. Great. Just great. This was going to end well. 

"Yeah thanks for telling me Davey."

Dave looked over his shades at Michael. "I was doing you a favor. Didn't think you'd want to know he was in the same state."

"So now what? I just sit back and hope he doesn't figure it out?" 

"It's worked so far-"

"He's a time bomb Dave and you fucking know it."

Dave motioned for Michael to move up the hill. "This'll do."

"Alright. Find out who we're looking for."

Michael sat the case down and began to assemble the riffle. There was a feeling rising in his chest. Guilt. Again. 

Trevor hated Brad. Why would he send him letters? Was it really that bad? Was he really that lonely? 

No. This was Trevor. Trevor didn't get lonely. The only reason he was acting like such an ass to Michael is because...well because...eh...who the fuck knew at this point. Or perhaps Michael was just telling himself that to make it easier on the guilt that had eaten him alive ever since Brad died. Brad was an ass but still...he wasn't supposed to get killed. And neither was Trevor. 

"Yeah, we need a description of the target."

Micheal fixated the weapon and began to look through the scope. "We're live." 

"You see anyone down there who might be an Azerbaijani?"

"Fuck do I know? You might Azerbaijani for all I know. What's one look like?"

"They look Eastern."

"Half this town looks eastern Davey. You got the fall of the Shah and the collapse of communism to thank for that."

"Anyone stand out?"

"No.They all kind of blend in. Make a call Dave."

Dave growled and turned to his phone. "We're going to need some more info on this guy. They're having a party down there."

After a while, Dave nudged Michael with his foot. "I need eyes on that party. Pick up the scope and gimme a report."

"Who am I looking for?"

"Steve's saying beard. What have you got?"

"Anything specific or is some stubble gonna cut it?"

"Let's start out mountain man and we'll work our way down til someone fits the profile."

"There's a few beards at this party. Vinewood's full of weak chins. Place is famous for it."

"Damn!"

Apparently Dave didn't get sarcasm either. 

"Beards are in fashion in Chumush. Land of beach hipsters. We need more."

After a few seconds, Dave returned and gave him another kick to the side. Michael rolled his eyes and put his eye back up to the scope. 

"Steve's telling me he chain-smokes Redwoods."

"It ain't the cigarettes that will kill him. It's the guys who put a warning on the packets he should worry about."

"And he's left-handed."

Even Trevor would have made that joke land. This was fucking ridiculous.

"Oh I get it. You're telling me to assassinate a guy because he's got facial hair, a cigarette and he's left-handed?"

That touched a nerve. "I'm telling you to assassinate a guy because he's a threat to national security. The rest's details."

Michael moved the scope around until his line of sight fell upon an unfortunate bastard who of all nights choose to smoke with his left hand. It could have easily been Michael down there. That was what was so creepy about this entire thing. From now on he was going to be switching hands whenever he smoked outside. 

"Ah I see someone. He fits the profile. Yup fits it all the way. I got a good feeling. Well as good as you can get while clipping a guy who probably don't deserve it. And now I'm taking the shot."

Fire. Boom. People running. Screaming. Probably just killed a man. At least Michael made a big show of it. "Davey I got someone definitely a lefty. Redwood smoking, bearded, maybe could be used to be Aljerbajani."

"Good enough for me. Steve it's done."

Michael put the gun and handed the case back to Dave. Dave apparently had a ride picking him up anyhow. It was morning and the sun was coming up. Amanda was probably already awake and probably going to give it to him about where he had been all day. Tracey had been away for a while. Michael should probably call her. Try and explain the entire Trevor siuation. He saw on her Lifeinvader page she wasn't all too happy with him being back. 

"Don't call me!"

"Trace. Come on!"

"I hate you! I wish Trevor was my father!"

"You can't mean that."

"Don't call me!"

Well, that went terribly. Nice to know his own daughter would rather have a murdering psychopath as a father than him. When had everything gone so wrong? Why was he even asking that? He already knew the answer. 

And now Trevor was calling him. Now what? It didn't matter because he wasn't going to answer. 

He should probably go to sleep. But smoking, drinking and binge watching An American Divorce was just too good. Until Amanda stalked into the living room. 

"What is wrong with you smoking in my house?" She grabbed the cigarette and put it into the glass he was drinking. "You know ever since that psychotic pal of yours turned up you've turned into an even bigger asshole!"

Amanda never was a fan of Trevor. Although Michael couldn't say he blamed her. But a long night with no sleep was not a recipe for natural thinking. The world was ending and Michael was right on top of it. 

Michael just rolled his eyes. "Thank you. Your support in my diffucult times means the world to me."

Amanda put her hands on her hips and stared angrily back at him breathing harshly. That was definitely the wrong thing to say. "I've supported you! I left everything to come here with you and still, that crazy bastard turns up!"

_Okay! I get it God! I fucked up! You can stop sending people my way to blast it in my face!_

Michael paused the movie and flicked off the television. "I'll handle it."

"How?"

"I don't know!"

"Arugh! You know what? Just keep him away from me and the children you low life whore mongering asswipe!"

"Did someone say Yoga?"

Fabien. Jesus. Way to ruin the moment.   
  


"No, I think she said whore mongering asswipe."

Amanda's face became calm and her voice sweet. "Hello, Fabien darling."

"Namaste Amanda. Are we ready to practice?"

Amanda turned towards Michael. "Yes."

Michael stood and shot back. "Oh yes she's very centered a regular center of peace and tranquility this one."

"You see what I have to deal with? A gorilla with anger issues and even worse friends! No wonder I am so upset!"

"You two...please! Namaste. We practice. Michael join us. Please." 

"No. Please no."

"Amanda...the yoga is for sharing."

Michael wasn't a fan of yoga but at this point his life was already way the fuck out of control so why the fuck not try something knew? Plus if it pissed off Amanda it would all be worth it.


	6. Chapter 6

"Awesome! Lead the way Fabien!" Michael allowed himself to be lead out to the pool patio and onto a rolled out mat.

"So Fab if you could make me as mellow and happy as my wife it'll be a job well fucking done." Michael wished he was kidding.

Fabien just clicked his tongue. "We are all on our own journies Michael."

"Man no doubt so why is she driving a tank on hers?"

Amanda was about to say something back but Fabien held up a hand to silence her. They both did some kind of weird breathing exercise. Michael ground his teeth. He didn't like the sexual tension hanging in the air. 

Fabien turned to Michael. "Perhaps to deal with your hostility Michael. Now here is good. We have the sun and the murribunda. The asshole. Now we begin and put the asshole to the Earth. Yes we begin each sequence Tadasana..." 

Michael looked over to see Amanda already on her mat and realized he needed to get on his. He slowly scooted back until the soles of his feet were on the yoga mat. "Or mountain pose."

"Alright." He did what they were doing. Palms facing upwards by his side. Chin raised and eyes facing forward. 

Fabien spread his legs and did a T-pose with his arms. "Deux." He then leaned in with left leg making a werid squat of sorts. "Tols. Mouth and anus are perfectly in line. Show him Amanda."\

Amanda copied him. "Un. [beat] Deux. [beat] Tols."

"It is perfect. Now Michael."

Michael couldn't believe this fucking nonsense. But his head was killing him, his guilt was back and his life was speeding out of control faster than a moose on a motorboat. At this point, he would eat dirt or rub lotion in his eyes if it was going to make him feel better.

"I don't know about this." He then got into the position they were in. 

"Now in through the bloated nose and out through those wrinkled lips." 

Damn Fabien. Was Michael paying your broke ass to insult him like this?

Amanda smirked at him. "Let it go."

Michael raised his hands into the T-pose. 

Amanda chuckled. "Maybe there's hope for him. A small tiny minuscule maybe."

Well, it was nice to know his wife hated his guts. To be fair he had acted like an ass earlier. It wasn't her fault he acted so fucking dumb all the time. Dave was right. He needed to get his shit together. He had brought this on himself. 

"In the nose out the mouth Okie Dokie." 

Michael did as he was told. 

"Maintain it."

Michael went into the lunge position. He was shaking already. Fuck he really was out of shape. It was nice to know his body was deprecating just like his marriage, his parentship, his friendship if he could even call it that anymore, his safety and everything in between. When he was with Trevor it was easy to put him as the black hole of the relationship. One who sucked in and destroyed everything it touched. But Michael was coming to realize that probably wasn't the case. At the very least he was the black hole all along. 

"Air through the nose and out through the mouth."

Michael breathed in and out feeling the blackness of that guilt eat him alive. Good. Let it. 

"It's like watching one of my kids take their first steps only it's an older version I resent."

Michael couldn't push it any farther. "This is gonna have to do." Fat ugly slob. Fuck he hated himself. How did he let it get this bad?

_You know how._

_Thank you conciseness who sounds exactly like my father. Really really helpful._

_ Hey I wasn't the one who roped my entire family into a death mission.  _

_It ain't like that._

_ So what is it like? _

_Oh, you're one to talk. Say what you want about me but at least I never shot both my kid's kneecaps off and left them in a shed for about two months until you finally let me go to the hospital. I never attacked my wife with a butcher knife._

_ Mm. Still butthurt over that I see. Well, say what you want about me but at least I never betrayed all my friends. I didn't let another man die for my crimes.  _

_Touche_ _._

"Now we will do something more complicated." Michael finally was able to release the pose. "Sometimes when I do this pose I weep uncontrollably for hours." 

Michael watched Fabien and Amanda add an extra step to the pose. 

"Oh wow," Amanda said chuckling. 

Michael just shook his head. This entire thing was nonsense. A good waste of $320 if you asked him.

"You feel that? The emotion inside? Let it go!"

Michael had to watch his wife cry like some kind of bad actress that Vinewood hired for the pretty face. Michael scratched his face in discomfort. He felt like he was watching a simulation to his own life. 

"Michael join us." 

Michael sighed. "Okay." He got into position and attempted to copy the movements of craziness he had just watched before him. "I feel like I'm channeling bullshit right now." 

Fabien only responded with "Breathe Michael."

He breathed in. 

"Breathe out please!"

_Alright damn! I was getting there._

"You feel that?"

Michael raised his arms. 

"The silly man forgets to breathe."

Michael breathed in and out. 

"Are you taking this seriously or is this some elaborate way to get back at me?"

Michael went into the next pose. 

_ Good Michael. If you don't say anything at all you definitely can't screw this anymore up than you already have. _

_Oh so what do you want me to do? Hit her? Like you hit mom? Like you hit me? Sorry but I for one don't solve all my problems with a belt and a fist._

_ That isn't what the man you beat the shit out of a few days ago would say. _

_Well maybe if you would have been more gentle I wouldn't have this problem. At least I'm not as bad as Trevor._

_ Good Michael. Blame this all on me. But it wasn't me who got you into this fucked up situation. How could I? I wasn't even there. _

"Now you breathe."

_What happened to you, Michael? Used to be a quarterback and now look at you. A fat angry drunken slob._

_Yeah, and how would you know? You never came to any of my games._

_And you never went to any of Tracey's dance recitals._

_No, I went. I remember I was with Trevor and we barely made it. Had to hide our rifles in the bushes._

_Three doesn't count. You might as well had not shown up at all._

_You may be right about that._

"Out through the mouth."

_So what are you planning on doing about Trevor?_

_I don't know._

_Yeah. Let's tell them that as Trevor is chopping them to pieces._

_He won't hurt them._

_Oh right because you fucked up not them. The number of times you blamed and ignored them would make one think otherwise._

"Tight.Tighter."

Michael put one palm on the patio to brace himself before lifting his right foot off the ground.

"You can breathe can't you?"

_He can but everyone around him wishes he would stop._

"He's actually trying. I can't believe it."

"Yeah, I'm about to feel some emotions alright."

They all put their feet back on the mat and raised their palms up to the sky.

"Remember children do not fear the unknown. We are the unknown. Show us, Amanda."

Amanda rolled her shoulders back. "I don't think Michael's up to this."

They got down on the ground. 

"He may surprise you. Plank."

"Plank."

"Chaturanga."

"Chatur...yeah."

"Feel the flow. Everything is flowing in me."

They got back up and took a deep breath. Fabien motioned towards Michael. "Mike. Would you?"

Michael shrugged his shoulders and took a deep breath in. 

"Put the lunar to the face."

Michael moved his shoulders up. 

"Take in the air and release it."

_**Jesus Christ. What are you a fucking yogi now Michael?** _

_Trevor? Is it bad enough you taunt me in real life? Got to do it in the comfort of my own house too?_

**_Let's not act like I haven't been haunting you for the past ten years._ **

_Yeah. And you showing up in real life makes things ten times worse for me._

**_Right. Because it's always about you._ **

"Out with the breathe."

_**I mean at least your fat ass is getting some exercise. Besides robbing, stealing, and snipping an innocent man at his own house party.** _

_Hey that wasn't exactly my fault._

**_Oh, and you didn't rob that jewelry store and pull that guy's house down?_ **

_Don't try and reason with him, Trevor. He'll just blame either of us if you get him to think too hard about his past actions._

"Lengthen. Strengthen."

Michael bent down to touch his toes. Or at least attempt to.

**_So when are you going to tell me? I mean the real me?_ **

_Dave said he'll handle it._

**_Yeah because that went so well last time._ **

"You're lungs they work yes?"

Michael breathed deeply in. 

"Good."

**_You know maybe if you beg for my forgiveness and actually tell the truth I might spare your life._ **

_You really think he would do that?_

**_Oh no. He's gonna gut your piggy ass and leave you out to roast. You're fucked._ **

_Thanks for the warning except it ain't much of a warning if I already know it._

**_Maybe he'll beat you with a cable cord within an inch of your life? Oh, wait that was daddy dearest, wasn't it? I forget. We both are scapegoats for your bad behavior it gets a little confusing at times. Always treating us like the monsters under your bed when the biggest monster in the room was you all along._ **

****"Breathing is almost the most important thing no?"

_**Better take in some deep breaths Mikey because pretty soon you won't anymore.** _

"Exhale."

"When we met he was actually really limber." 

Amanda looked down at him. "Take a breath. Come on."

_Thank God I beat your bare ass over that toilet with that radio antenna. You may be a failure at a lot of things Michael but if I beat you any less you would have no idea when to shut your fucking mouth._

"Not bad."

I don't know dog. Seems like your old man and best pal are right. You did a lot of fucked up stuff.

**_Ex- best pal Franklin get it right._ **

_Great even the figments in my own head are out of control._

"Breath please Michael. Breath."

_**What are you going to do when the real me uncovers the truth? What are you going to do when Franklin finds out what you did?** _

_Do you want me to answer honestly or-_

**_I'm just saying Mikey it would do everyone a huge favor if you bite the bullet._ **

"Let it out. Okay. Take in the air and release it."

"Can you wash that mat later? It's going to smell all bloody and smokey and Michaely."

_**The innocent blood of Brad and who knows how many others all over his hands.** _

_And then the cigarette smell of father who rather go for a smoke than be with his own wife and kids._

And the man who tried to run when he was the problem all along.

"Your lungs they work yes?"

_**Mikey I'm still pissed at you but can we seriously end this prick when this is all over. Just saying the same fucking thing over and over and over and ov-** _

_You know ever since the real Trevor showed up you've been nothing but an annoying asshole._

_**Aww Mikey you do care.** _

_Oh, that actually hit the spot. Felt kinda nice actually._

"Out through those wrinkled lips."

"Try and pretend there is a cigar in between your lips."

After that Michael rose up and breathed in. That actually felt good. It felt nice to beat a dead horse without ...well actually beating a person up. 

"You have come along way today Michael. Yes later you will cry like a baby." Fabien ruined the moment. 

"Yeah...right..."

Amanda just put her hands on her hips. "His chakras are completely blocked! Don't worry about him!"

Fabien just waved her off. "Show me the downward dog."

Amanda sighed but did as she was told. Fabien helped her get into the position by straightening her hips. 

"I'm glad we have helped with your impotence Michael."

And Michael was seeing red. "What'd you say?"

Fabien moved behind Amanda and spread his legs. 

"Your sexual energies have been blocked for too long. Back into my pelvis."

Amanda did just that. "Back, back, back, yes...there you go very nice. Hmm very nice."

The fucking yogi was grinding on his wife. 

_**You gonna fucking do something about this!** _

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Hey enough of that shit!"

Amanda stood up and came towards him with an angry expression. "What!"

What? What? This was all kinds of fucked up! How the fuck could she not see that!

And before he knew it he was charing at Fabien like some fucking raging bull. Fabien dodged him easily and he went headfirst into the pool cutting himself on the forehead with the sleek Spanish tiles. 

"Yoga is the answer, Michael. But what is the question?"

Amanda threw up her hands. 

"Um, why am I such a moron?"

That was the question he had been asking his entire life. Little did he know the answer was right around the corner. 

Amanda started pulling Fabien towards the house. "We are leaving and never coming back!"

"Good!"

"You are alone you pathetic psychopath!"

"Ugh! Fuck you!"

Damn. He had hit his arm on the way down too. Fuck. 

"And that phony French fucking yogi!" 

Michael pulled himself out of the pool and shook his arms. He was soaked. 

Tracey had moved out. Amanda was leaving him. At least he still had Jimmy. 

"Jimmy! You still here?" 

No reponse. No no no. Not him too. 

"James!"

"Go away!"

Michael sighed in relief. Oh thank God.

"Oh you know what fuck you! If there was a rape button I'd be using it right now! Unless your a faggot and you like that sort of shit. And then I'll just rape your mom instead." 

Michael waltz in to see Jimmy was playing on his...brand new tv.

"Nice tv? I pay for that?"

"Yeah, you smashed the other one didn't you?"

Fair enough. The fuck was wrong with him. Just like Fame or Shame. Jesus Christ. Amanda was right. He just got so angry and then-

"Alright come on. I wanna go for a ride."

"I gotta meet a friend."

"Alright, so I'll go meet him with you. Come on. I want to get out of the house. I'm not going alone."

Jimmy paused the game and attempted to slide off the bed with extreme difficulty. "Come on! This is fucking bullshit!"

Michael pulled off the headphones and tossed them onto the bed as Jimmy stomped out of the room. 

"Bullshit? Threatening to molest your online buddies is bullshit." 

"They're not my buddies."

"They're the only people you speak to."

They both got into the car and Michael turned to Jimmy. "So where's your friend?"

"Burger shot."

Alright, father-son bonding time round one. 

"Yeah nice to see the kids are still hanging out at Burger Joints. Me and the guys we'd go down to the diner every day after class. You know get milkshakes, fries-"

"Eww. Please. You know you're really creeping me out."

How was that creepy?

"I'm trying to relate to you." Michael made sure his voice was gentle when he said that. Jimmy was his last family member still here. He had to get him to want to be around him. 

But Jimmy was taking him to meet his friend. This was a good sign right? He was getting into Jimmy's inner circle. 

"No! You're trying to take me on some nostalgia trip! You're such a cliche!"

"Oh! Says the dope-smoking game playing lives at home world owes me a living millennial!"

"I knew it! I knew it! The mask was gonna slip. The monster's been exposed!"

Ouch. That hurt and the knife just kept getting twisted. 

"The hell are you talking about?"

"The real you! The bitter vindictive old man! You pretend you're being a father but you hate me don't you?"

Jimmy thought that-

"I don't hate you, Jimmy! How many times-" And Jimmy was right. He was raising his voice. Michael sighed. "I love you. Look I'm sorry if I don't express that correctly. But why do you think we're here together?"

"Because you're scared shitless of being alone?"

"Oh so now you're an armchaired psychologist. Just like the rest of this city." Michael made sure to keep his voice at room volume. _Don't get mad._

"You brought me here Michael. Don't be surprised when some of the razzle dazzle rubs off."

And there is was. Did his entire family really hate it here? He thought he had done the right thing but-

"I'd thought you'd see through the bullshit. Ya know keep your head."

"Maybe that's what I'm trying to do! If you think you're walking around in a town full of idiots with your midwestern picket fence values then you're probably the biggest idiot here. Wake up!"

"Ugh, what did I bring into this world? So Burger Shot? I see you and your friend have got a mutual interest?"

"What's that supposed mean?"

"You don't have to hit the bleeder burgers to get a body like that but it certainly helps."

"Okay yeah! I thought it was some dig at my appearance which I'm already like totally insecure about but I thought I'd give you the benefit of the doubt! Stupid me!"

Great job Michael. Really great way to get your kids to want to spend time with you. Michael wanted to smack his head on the steering wheel. When had this taken such a wrong turn?

"Hey you set em up I knock em down! What can I say? You know what? You and me? We'll work out some time Jim. I'll have you down to fighting weight in-"

"Oh please. Eugh. No. My friend actually like works at Burger Shot by the way."

Hmm. Suspicious. 

"Oh does he actually?"

"I don't just hang out with trust fund kids. I cross lines. Like his pool is totally small and shit."

"Yeah...but if he works at Burger Shot he's more like a professional acquaintance? Like your burger dealer?"

Jimmy had no pride. He just shifted in the seat and rolled his eyes. "He's my dealer dealer. You got a problem with that?"

"Oh no not at all. So we're doing a drug run then? Right? I mean let's call it what it is."

Un fucking believable. Take them out of the midwest to keep them away from the drug dealers and bring them here and they still find them anyways. Damn it. 

"Yeah it's a drug run! But that doesn't give you an excuse to shot anybody okay?"

Michael tightened his jaw at that last part. Did his son really think he was incapable of having a normal interaction with one of his friends or dealers or whatever the fuck this was without hurting other people?

_Like father like son._

_I never laid a finger on Jimmy other than a loving touch or a shove. I never beat him._

_But you did kill other people in front of him no?_

_Well it was his fucking fault! He stole my boat and got himself kidnapped. What was I supposed to do? Let Franklin and him get killed by those low lifes?_

I don't know but what I do know is that you never said you cared about em. Just acted all aloof and overemotional about a physical position. That was low even for you.

_Hey kid. I love you but you've only been in my life for what two weeks now? So you don't know what the fuck you're going on about. You don't know all of which I've done._

**_And he has done a lot of fucked up shit. Trust me. And that's just from the years I knew him. We get Amanda, Tracey, and Jimmy in here we could write a whole book of sin on this man. Plus you already got a Michael's a fuck up story so there's that. And let's not forget all the shit he did that no one else saw. Perhaps I'll ask Lester._ **

_Fine! Go ahead! If Trevor doesn't kill me first it will be one of the ten groups of people I pissed off this week._

**_Yeah really sucks ass when you can't run away from your problems this time._ **

"You really have to meet my friend?"

"Yeah. I really do."

"Then please don't get weird. For once in your life don't get weird."

Jimmy stepped out of the car to met a person who looked like someone Trevor would pay for a $10 blow job. Eugh. Why the fuck did he just say that? Disturbing fucking just eugh. 

Michael watched them do that high five hug thing. He couldn't hear exactly what they were saying but he did say he won't get involved so he didn't. 

"Ah, Mr. De Santo!" The guy walked up to the window. He looked even nastier up close. 

Michael narrowed his eyes. "Yeah you the guy selling Jimmy pot by the pound?"

The guy just laughed "Jimmy you're dad's funny man."

Michael just rolled his eyes. "Alright come. Do this shit and let's get going."

Jimmy whispered to the guy who went "yeah yeah yeah" before stalking off into the back door. 

Overprotective dad mode engaged.

"Come on Jimmy. What the fuck?"

"Just hold on a second."

Michael sighed. Meeting shady dealers, cursing his friends out online, getting kidnapped, and shot at. At least he still lived at home so Michael could keep somewhat of an eye on him. 

The creepy dude brought out a large soda and Jimmy climbed back into the car. 

"Hey let's bounce."

Michael frowned at him. "Bounce? That's what we're doing? We're bouncing? Jesus fucking Christ."

_**For once in your entire life can you not be a judgemental asshole.** _

_Hey I didn't get any sleep, my daughter and wife left me and my past is seeping into my present. Give me a fucking break, would you?_

"Alrighty then. Now what?"

"Can we just get back to the house please?"

Michael sighed. Well this was a disaster but at least Jimmy was still here. 

After a while Jimmy nudged him on the shoulder. "Hey you wanna drink?"

"I'm driving."

"Yeah because normally you're such a nice to pedestrians in between the white lines kind of guy."

"Fine. Give it here."

Jimmy grinned at him and passed him the cup. Michael took a sip. Hmm. Sprunk soda. Not his favorite in the world but certainly not terrible. 

His chest felt...tighter. Trevor was right.Fucking smoking shit is gonna kill him. 

"Alright your turn."

"Eh maybe later."

"Ha! Who's the square now?"

The sun became brighter and harder to look at. He almost hit some people on the sidewalk. 

"I'm starting to feel a little-a little whoozy." 

The world was spinning. He felt like he was gonna be-

"You're fine."

The noises became static. It felt like he was talking to Jimmy through a tunnel. A really long and bright tunnel. 

"No really. This is not normal."

"Chill out. You're just paranoid." 

He had to slow the car down. Everything was becoming so fucking bright. 

"This is not paranoia. This is totally justifiable concern." 

Jimmy laughed at him. The blues. It felt like they had fingers and were reaching out and groping his eyeballs. "You should see yourself. Just chill out and drive home."

No. He couldn't. Everything. 

"I gotta pull over." 

He could barely breathe. It felt like he was drowning. Good God. What was-

"What was in that thing?"

The purples. Reds. Everything. 

"It's harmless. The vets have been using it for decades."

"What? You anesthetized me you fucking shit?"

Jimmy reached over and undid his seatbelt and opened the door. "I'm protecting you from yourself."

_No Jimmy. Not you too. Please don't-_

"Also I took money from your bank account and I'm moving out alright? 

He felt Jimmy start pushing him out onto the sidewalk. 

"What?"

"You're too crazy dad!"

_No no no! You can't do this to me! I need you!_

Michael felt the ground hit his shoulder. And the street felt as though it was swallowing him up. This was fucking-

"JIMMY!"

He tried to stand but it felt as though hands were pulling him down. Back down. So far down. 

He was being dragged. Everything was way too fucking bright. The static. 

_Make it stop._

The colors.

Orange and green.

Everywhere.

Where was he?

Nowhere.

Left? Right? Center? 

He was blind. 

No. 

Eyes. Just. Closed. 

Open. Open. Had to open. His. Eyes. 

Pulsing red. Screaming. 

Brad's screams. His final breathes.

_No God please no! Don't make me watch that again! Please, God! Make it stop! Make it fucking stop!_

Green. 

Purple. 

Sewer. 

Dumpsters. 

Monkies.

Yelling at him. 

He tried to stand.

Seven monkies. All jumping around and pointing at him. 

He knew them. 

Or at least it felt that way. 

Amanda. 

Tracey.

Jimmy.

Franklin. 

Lester. 

Dave.

Trevor.

The wife he cheated on. 

The daughter he ignored. 

The son he taunted. 

The kid he pulled in.

The partner he left. 

The helper he ignored.

The friend he betrayed. 

He had fucked up. Badly. There was no coming back from this one. 

When the truth came out none of these people were gonna show him any mercy or forgiveness. 

Then there was a UFO pulling him up. The monkies were cheering. His friends and family throwing him to the wolves. 

He was on a table in his underwear now. Four aliens surrounded him

Dave Norton.

Steve Haines.

Martain Madrazo.

And even fucking Devin Weston. 

Did they even have beef?

Who the fuck knows at this point?

Moving his body parts around and staring at him like he was some piece of meat. Looking to take him apart limb by limb. 

But then they were...disappearing because he was falling. 

Falling...into Los Santos. 

"JIMMY!" 

No avail. He was in the air. His family couldn't hear him. 

He was flying in the city. So far above. 

_Too high. Too high._

"What do you want Michael?"

"I always thought I was the good guy..."

"I got in a bit of an awkward situation."

"You ruined my life."

"You are nothing but a murdering cheating hypocrite."

"You took a wrong turn along the way."

"it's like I'm two different people."

"You're out there doing God only knows what."

"You're rude, you're a killer, a thief, a liar."

"Oh, I'm getting by except for the loneliness and heartache of course."

"Oh, I don't know man."

"That's my dad."

"Jimmy!"

"You have ruined my serenity yet again!"

"I always thought I was the good guy..."

"You're pretty vocal for a dead man."

"Man fuck my life."

"I came looking for YOU! And I found YOU!"

"I'm gonna go around back. Look for the chopper."

"You told me it'd be a clean job. No casualties."

"He still writes to me from the joint you know."

"I ain't exactly got anywhere to go."

"Jimmy!"

"You are either drunk or staring miserably at the clouds."

"What happened to dying with a gun in your hand?"

"Don't call me!"

"Thanks for the fucking guidance dad it means a lot!"

"And you're plainly addicted to chaos?"

"I always thought I was the good guy..."

"No please. Keep that sick bastard away from me."

"Run! It's the fucking Feds!"

"And you'll make it up to me by doing whatever I ask."

"Slow and steady T. Slow and steady."

"I just had a really heavy lunch."

"He just got that crazy look in his eye."

"Yea you're a model husband and a wonderful parent. I can just tell."

"But at the same time, I really want the other stuff too."

"Cut you the deal of a lifetime."

"You see what I have to deal with!"

"It's cool man. I'm in LS anyways."

"Can you please not get shot or arrested in the house? That would be like totally embarrassing."

"I wish Trevor was my father."

"They buried him? Not that I know of."

"Pop. Seriously Tracey hates you."

"Ain't gonna leave you Mikey!"

"Don't kill him!"

"I'll comp the session bro."

"Green light! Green light! Martain Madrazo gives you green light!"

"I know who you are. I know where you live."

"He agreed to finance! I have his signature!"

"Dad these are my friends!"

"You're a good kid Franklin."

"You have to work on your anger Michael."

"The let up is a looong way off."

"That's not the name I have on your profile Michael."

"What are you even doing here? Everyone in this house hates you."

"I got in a bit of an awkward situation."

The street became closer and closer. 

"What do you want Michael?"

"I always thought I was the good guy."

Gravity met air. Circles everywhere.

Michael awoke to find himself covered in vomit and in his blue boxers. He stood up and vomited all over the grass. Everything was still pulsing and bright but at least it was less than it was before. 

"Jimmy. You little shit."

Michael saw a group of teens taking pictures of him with their phones and laughing as he ran past. The world was still dizzy and everyone and everything seemed to be screaming "YOUR FAULT!"The house. It was...just there. 

Michael clung to the fence as his stomach rolled again and he vomited up onto the sidewalk. 

"Fucking disgusting drug-addicted pig!" Some woman in a convertible said. Her boyfriend shook his head. "Fucking disgusting! Why they have to do their cocaines outside!"

They drove off. Michael groaned as he made his way onto the property. The sun was rising and the Los Santos air became warmer around him. He stumbled up the steps and upon openingthe doors he heard the worst sound of all. Silence. 

"Hello?"

No answer. 

"Trace! Jimmy! Amanda! Guys! I'm back!"

He always came back because he was a family man. Exactly. He wasn't his father. His dad left his family. But Michael-Michael wasn't ever gonna leave his family or abandon them no matter what they did because-

In the empty kitchen there sat a note on the island.

**Michael,**

**I think you've finally lost your mind. Your recent behavior and the company you've been keeping already had me very concerned. Now you've taken to attacking my Fabien who is a close friend and then Jimmy said you took drugs while driving with him in your car. We've decided to move out for a while. You promised me you'd change but you haven't changed a bit. I know you always say I act like I'm in a movie well this isn't that. I think I'm going to speak to a lawyer. I'm just really confused.**

**Please don't try to contact us and try not to get yourself killed.**

**Amanda**

Michael crinkled the letter in his hand and threw it to the side. 

"Fuck!"

**Author's Note:**

> There is a companion fic of a sort to this one from the perspective of those outside of the know to what happened in North Yankton:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/24263986/chapters/58476133


End file.
